Future by love
by Grrlaus
Summary: Data and Geordi is having a baby. A half-human, half android baby, the first of its kind. Family bliss is not easily achieved though, with prejudices all around and space being a dangerous place for expecting androids. Especially when the android's evil twin gets tangled up in proceedings. (Chapters 6, 8, 11 don't deal w Data or baby directly)
1. Chapter 1

_"I mean, being a robot's great, but we don't have emotions, and sometimes that makes me very sad." — _Bender, Futurama

When Geordi entered the room, Data was sitting by the window. His back was ram-rod straight and his shoulders were perfectly aligned with the floor. He was staring out into black space, eyes wide and dry. Apparently he had not bothered running the programs on how to sit casually like a human, nor how to blink. Geordi felt a pang of unease. Seeing Data like this would be like seeing Picard with a stubble or Worf crying: something out of the ordinary, potentially embarrassing and a bit frightening. Geordi could tell that not all his mate's systems were functioning within normal parameters. It was understandable: It had only been two days since Lal died.

"Hey, there you are! I missed you at Ten-forward today."

"Hello Geordi". Data didn't turn to look at him as Geordi approached. His soft voice sounded neutral, perfectly level. Just like normal. Geordi let out a breath he'd been holding. Thankfully Data at least had the voice simulator program running.

"Some guys were playing a new game, from Toroc One. Looked like fun. We must try that some day." Geordi sat down next to the rigid android. He waited for a response but none came. He wondered what to say next, if he was distrurbing something. If this was the android way of grieving. Geordi knew the mechanics of this advanced machine from the inside and out, and he knew this unique person better than anyone. His fellow officer, best friend, heck, even possibly his boyfriend judging from how things had developed lately. With the physical activities they had shared in Data's room, and in Geordi's, and on the Holodeck, and one time under an examination table in Sickbay. But still, despite their familiarity, Geordi was at a bit of a loss on how to approach the situation.

"We haven't talked that much since... How are you doing, really? Looking a bit forlorn there."

Well. That came out way too casual, and who the heck used a word like 'forlorn' anyway. Ten seconds into the conversation and Geordi was already kicking himself. Though if Data had noticed how awkward he was feeling he made no sign of it. It seemed he had barely registered Geordi was even there.

"I am fine Geordi. Thank you for asking. I am currently running a series of system checks."

Geordi studied his friend's expressionless face. He strongly suspected Data was more affected than he let on by the recent events, and what he now saw in his friend only confirmed his suspicions. The electromagnetic light that the android emitted glowed as usual through his VISOR as white and gold, with tiny flames of bright green, myoberry red and orange, but there were also hues of cobalt and deep ultraviolet. Geordi had seen them before, and he knew what they meant. He had wished then he would never have to see them again.

A particularly bright sheen of blue was flickering around the base of his mate's head, where the spine connected with the skull. He knew Data's systems well enough to correctly interpret this as high activity in the spinal sub-processors: the android was thinking hard but inefficiently. It almost looked like a program was looping.

"To be honest Data, you don't look that well."

Data's head twitched, mechanically. He took on the patient expression he always had when he was gearing up to explain that he, as an android, had no emotions.

"As you know Geordi I do not have emotions, so any appearance of gloom must be a projection of your-"

"Yes I know, I know" Geordi interrupted, "You've mentioned that. A couple of times. You do know…that if you want to talk about it, I'm here. Just..you know, we can talk about anything. If you want to."

"Thank you Geordi. You are a good friend."

Geordi frowned. Two short sentences, no follow-up questions. This was in itself a worrying sign for the normally long-winded android. It would be so much better if Data would chatter away, talking his yellow head off about what was going through his mind. About his android feelings. Then again that would probably mean Geordi would have to talk feelings too. Damn. He caught himself nervously twisting the hem of his uniform around his fingers. Finding the right words to say in these kinds of situations had never been Geordi's strength, if he was to be honest with himself. But he'd be damned if he was gonna let Data sit here and wallow in recent events. At least he was not going to let him wallow in them alone.

Geordi decided to go with a more physical approach. He put his arm around Data's shoulders, leaned up against him and joined in the silent staring into space. It felt like sitting next to a piece of steel. He could see their faces reflected in the glass, elongated with the curve of the windowpane. Data glowing like a grade A-nebula in Geordi's VISOR, his expression indifferent.

The ship was going steady at cruising speed through the S-78 cluster. Stars and white dwarves wooshed by as they travelled, creating white streaks in the black. Geordi turned to his mate, let his breath ghost over the golden skin just above the uniform collar. Data blinked. At last the android slumped into a more human posture, duranium melting into a resemblance of bones and flesh.

When Data broke the silence his voice came out quieter than normal.

"I believe you want information about my current status. You have perhaps already concluded I am not running anywhere near 100% efficiency. When you came in I was processing information about Lal at 82,713% capacity, of which 19,4% was performing severely below par. Right now I am using approximately 78% to calculate the time frames between Lal's sensor stimuli versus the initiation of the cascade failure. I have done some tests on the data I downloaded from her and I have made several orthogonal matrixes of the event. But I cannot find a equation to make for a satisfactory outcome."

Geordi sighed. "Look…there was nothing you could have done. Her systems were very expandable. You couldn't have known the level of information gathering she would perform. In a very short time she excelled-"

He hesitated. Next words out of his mouth would have been "She outshone her father; she achieved in days what you haven't managed for years" but he didn't know how well that would go down.

"Indeed Geordi. Lal absorbed information very quickly. I was most satisfied with her accomplishments". The android looked as sad as Geordi had ever seen him.

"Hey, look…" He put his hand on the back of his friend's head, covering up the blue angsty glow. He wished he could simply rip out the light, crumple it into a ball and kick it into the next galaxy. The skin covering the source of the light was warmer than usual. Geordi let his fingers circle over the spot in what he hoped would be perceived as a soothing pattern.

"Let it go for now, ok? You really need to stop knocking yourself over this, if that's what you're doing."

He could sense Data leaning into his touch, letting out an imitation of a human sigh which unfortunately sounded more like a drunk cat hissing. Geordi had to bite back a smile. Apparently there was not enough computing power allotted to the android's breathing functions.

"You are right Geordi. I do believe I could be in the process of "knocking myself over this". For the last hour I have simulated the line of events from her activation up to her demise 258 times, using different input parameters. They all lead to the same outcome."

Data paused when Geordi let his thumb grace over the edge of his lower cranial maintenance panel. Noting the effect, Geordi experimentally did it again. Data gave a slight shiver.

"I have to conclude I am inferior to my father when it comes to creating new life. "

"Oh Data. I wouldn't say that. Lal was your first attempt. Your father tried it a bunch of times before you and your brother…" Geordi winced. If he ever met Lore again that would be a day too soon. That one time he had made a quick and destructive visit to the Enterprise had been quite enough. Back when Data's aura had been flecked with blue.

"…before you and your brother came along. And frankly Lore wasn't all that successful either. He was nothing like your old gentle self." He poked Data playfully in the shoulder. "You great mass of positronic circuits".

Data turned away from the window with a twitch and gave him a startled bird-like look.

"Yes you" Geordi smiled. "You mass."

Relieved to see Data returning his smile, he scooted closer to his friend, wrapping an arm around his waist. He could feel Data's hand coming to rest on his thigh, then their lips met. Geordi's other hand got tangled up in artificial hair, pulling it. Data's skin was smooth and warm, and he smelled faintly of silicone and warm circuit board. Geordi ran a finger over the maintenance cover again and was rewarded with another shiver.

" Geordi" Data's voice was slightly muffled, trying to kiss and talk at the same time. "You said I was to tell you when you did things I preferred over other things. And I find it agreeable when - " he paused to wipe off some excess artificial saliva that had gathered on his bottom lip. Apparently his saliva replenishment subroutine was a bit off too today. Geordi realised he found android drool very appealing. " - when you touch my lower-left cranial maintenance panel. It reminds me of the times when you perform repairs on my gyro levers."

Geordi laughed. Never had the words "gyro levers" sounded so sexy. Just knowing Data had preferences made his heart beat faster. "That's great, just keep that information coming." He pulled his leg from under Data's, who apparently had tried to climb into his lap at some point. His thigh was asleep. "You know, you have a thousand manuals in there about the sweet spots on human males, so you have a bit of a head-start." He put his leg over Data's instead. Better.

"We are more alike in this aspect that you think Geordi. I do have routines on human males in general, but I wish to learn your unique specifics in particular."

"Then I believe we can work well together, because I'm gonna be the universal expert on the erogenous zones of this particular Soong type-android-person...". He reached for the fastenings on Data's uniform and opened it to expose more of the smooth golden neck. And what a lovely neck it was. He decided to start with the left side. "I'm in fact very dedicated to this cause."

"I find it agreeable when you kiss my neck, as you are doing now." Geordi hummed in agreement, moving further up and nipped an earlobe. He peeked over his mate's shoulder to check the colour of Data's aura. Relief and happiness spread in his chest when he found the blue light to be almost gone, and he had helped to make it go away! He had managed to stop the looping, and he didn't even have to use mechanical tools to do it.

"Hey, if you try it again, building a new brain for Lal or constructing a new child, I'm sure it'll be a success." he kissed Data's jaw. "But you should probably warn the captain first so he doesn't have an aneurysm. The poor guy."

He could feel the steel returning to the android's body a second before Data hastily straightened to a perfect 90-degree upright position. "What...did I say something?"

"If it would not have been for Captain Picard she would have been taken away from me" He looked calm, his yellow gaze locked onto Geordi's VISOR, but there was a slight tone of something sad in his voice. "And even despite the Captain's best efforts, they would have taken her eventually. I could not have prevented it. It appears my right as a sentient being does not stretch as far as my offspring. Or am I mistaken?".

Geordi sighed and took Data's hand, stroked it with his thumb. "No... It would appear not."

"If I build another brain for Lal, or indeed construct a new child, it will be taken away too. I will never be allowed to bring up a child. To be a parent."

Geordi took his other hand, held them both fast. "Well... Not right now at least. I wish I could tell you that they'll come around, but I know how thick Starfleet can be." He didn't voice the rest of his thought: They would just have to be grateful Starfleet didn't order Data off the ship and into a lab, forcing him to build new Soong-like models until his fingers wore down to the poly-alloy skeleton. Probably with a crazed Maddox hanging over his shoulder and watching his every move.

Data looked down on their joined hands, brows knitted. "Geordi, are we 'a couple'?"

"What?" Now that was a change of subject. "Like 'a couple'-couple? Uh, I'd say we are… would you?"

Geordi waited for about three seconds while the android ran through all the definitions of 'couple'. He really hoped the answer would be yes.

"We are meeting the criteria for 'a couple' listed in approximately 80% of the definitions, with a 100% match in Bajorian, Acamarian and Etanian culture. Yes, I would say we are." And with that, Data pulled Geordi down into a more horisontal position.

Picard cleared his throat. The day had not begun well. There had been a fire on C-deck that, while it hadn't done much damage, still caused the entire section to smell of burned plastics; a quibble between two officers, one they really could have sorted out for themselves, had been taken into his office and played out in front of him. While he had lectured his officers and sent them on their merry ways his tea had gone cold, and he had been distracted enough to not notice before he had swallowed a big gulp of room-temperatured brew. Now he sat stewing in disappointment and a stale taste of bergamot. He felt an urge to talk to a sane person, and to get a proper, non-replicated cup of tea. He set off for Ten forward and Guinan.

When Picard entered the mess hall his mood dropped to just below floor-level. He had immediately spotted the worst of his worst possible nightmares: the annoying excuse for an omnipotent being: Q! Damn, double-damn! The waste of space and energy sat alone at one of the tables along the wall. Picard considered turning on his heel and make a dash for it, but he quickly re-considered. It would be a cold day on the Sun before he would run away from Q. Besides, Q could easily and in a flash appear just next to him with his finger in Picard's ear at any time (it had happened) so there was really no point. He was just postponing the inevitable.

Well, a lot could be said for postponing. Thankfully Q hadn't spotted him yet. He sat a bit hunched over, poking a cocktail stick into the deep murky layers of a Bynar 01-soda fizz. Funny, Q trying cocktails. In ten-forward no less. Why was he here if not to annoy the crew and especially the Captain? Picard experimentally crossed the room and walked over to the bar. Not exactly sneaking, no, but maybe a bit less captain-y than usual. Q didn't look up. Guinan was of course nowhere to be seen. Damn. Picard looked over to Q again. Was he doodling on a piece of paper? Yes he was. Probably making up some disruptive plan to humiliate him and generally upset the order of things. But why wasn't Q in his face already, like usual? It was beginning to grate on him, like a mouse with a cat having its paw above its head but not striking.

Picard did another turn around Ten-forward, just because. Q didn't look up from his cocktail and his paper. Well, sod this. This mouse was to take control of its own destiny.

Picard walked straight up to Qs table, putting a hand down on the table surface a bit harder than he had intended. He noticed with pleasure that the omnipotent being flinched at the sound. "Q! WHAT are you doing here?".

Q immediately found his bearings: "Well, well, _mon capitaine_, WHAT am I indeed doing here in your establishment? I would say "fine" establishment, but then that would be a lie!" Q looked happier and happier with each passing second. Picard gritted his teeth. "Please, sit down _capitaine, s'il vous plait!_ Share a drink with me! The 01-soda fizz is excellent! A bit heavy on the fermented snails perhaps, but it is, as so many things are, a matter of taste."

"I prefer to stand, thank you. Neither you or I will be long here. What is the purpose of your visit?"

Q stirred his drink again, picking up a bit of the sludge with it and carefully licking it off before replying. "I am here out of my good heart! As you know I only strive to make humanity better, to serve as your faithful guide through the darkness. In a way it is like watching monkeys poking sticks into-"

"Enough!"

Q put the stick back into his glass and pouted. "Well then. Your android called for me. As you know, I am in his debt."

"He's not MY android, he's his own an.. well that doesn't matter!" Picard boomed. He was going to have Data flayed for this. Or at least he would tell him off in a firm way. "Whatever the reason is, I want you off this ship NOW."

Q threw his hands up for dramatic effect and gave Picard a big smile: "_Mais, n'est pas possible!_ You see _Capitaine_, Data called in a favour I promised him way back when. And I'm going to help him. The reason I'm sitting here in you _establishment_ nursing this cocktail is that I'm trying to think of how. His request is not simple, and, as you would say, _je ne sais pas quoi faire_."

Picard had to admit it, his curiosity was piqued. "The mighty Q being at a loss what to do? Come now, out with it. What did he want your help with?"

"He wants to have a baby". Q positively beamed. "And he wants to have it with Geordi!"

Picard really really wished he had that tea now.


	2. Chapter 2

Captain Picard looks up from his desk at his visitors. It's been a long day and it's not over yet. Any day with Q in it is a day too long. And now this unexpected…issue. This sensitive, delicate issue. At least he had a cup of Earl Grey.

His visitors are looking in different directions. The shorter of the two appears to be studying his own reflection in the shiny surface of the Captain's spotless desk. To be honest it's hard to tell exactly where he is looking. He could just as well be nodding off, but Picard sees the barely noticeable movement of his fingers, busy picking away at the hem of his uniform.

His other visitor is looking at him with an open, curious face, wide yellow eyes seeking his; a child's expression. What an odd couple. He has known about the two of them for some time now. The physical aspect of their relationship came as a complete surprise to him. It hasn't really changed anything on board, and it is really none of his business. Still, it feels like his responsibility has grown heaver somewhat. Not only does he have the only functioning Soong-type android on his crew, he also has Starfleet's first known human-machine couple on his hands.

Well, the sooner he settles this the quicker it will be over. He clears his throat to speak, taps his fingers against the speckless desk surface. They are both looking at him now.

"Mr LaForge. Mr Data. This is not something I look upon light-heartedly. Firstly, and to the point, I consider it a breach of ship security to attract Q in any way, shape or form, for any reason." He turns to his Lieutenant Commander. "Mr Data."

The android leans forward. "Sir, I - "

"Let me be absolutely clear on this: NOBODY on this ship calls upon Q. Under any circumstances. He does quite a fine job of turning up uninvited, the least we want to do is encourage his visits. It took me two rounds at Ten Forward to get him off the ship this time. And not before he had lectured me about the many faults of humanity and turned a chair into a flock of parrots."

It really had been a nightmare, the parrots. At least now 35 children on board the ship were happy new parrot owners. Children love animals.

"Yes Sir, understood." Data says. "It was -"

Picard raises a dismissive hand. The android deflates slightly. "Thank you Mr Data. Now. As to the reason you called for Q, I wish to know if is it true what he told me. You want his help to… procreate."

"Yes Sir." His Lt. Commander straightens up in his chair, obviously eager to iron out any possible misunderstandings. His Chief engineer returns to his study of the desk surface.

"Sir," Data says, "let me first say that I was wrong to call upon Q for two reasons. The first being emphasised by your reaction just now to the fact that I did so. Considering our past history with the Quntinuum I should have realised it would be a sensitive issue for you personally." Picard mentally grumbles but lets that one slip. "The second reason being that after some discussion, we came to the conclusion we do not need his help after all. We are fully capable of creating a child on our own."

"Mr Data. Are you saying you want to build another 'child' together with Mr LaForge?" Picard can't quite hide the quotation marks around the word 'child'.

"Yes Captain. We are a couple, and as such we wish to procreate. We want to build our child in the common biological way, as is custom among humans." Data must have seen Picard's brow furrow, because he hastens to add "It is family planning, Sir. Normal family planning."

Oh, so it's a human baby that all this is about, not a Lal II. Apparently the idea about having an offspring has lodged itself deep in Data's fancy brain, no matter if the offspring will be one of his own kind or a real human baby. He may be one of the best officers in Starfleet, but once an idea gets to him he can be incredibly stubborn. Like with the poetry recitals.

Picard sighs, drums his fingers impatiently. He doesn't say, What could you ever offer a human child, you are a machine and but a child yourself. He doesn't say, Not under this roof you don't. It'd mess up our schedule. My officers don't have time for kids.

"Gentlemen, it is not my place to interfere with family planning among the crew. I would, however, like some elaboration on how you plan to, um, build this child. Our laboratory on F-level is at your service if the plan is to clone Mr LaForge. But please, tell me: why did you think you would need Q's help to clone a baby? Granted, there is a plethora of forms to fill in and permits to be given if you take the cloning route, but I hardly think Q could have offered much help with the paper work." He allows himself a small chuckle.

His engineer maintains his silence, only fiddles more forcefully with the hem of his uniform. His Lt. Commander pipes up again: "Sir, we do not plan to clone Geordi. We want to have a child together in the human biological way, with us both as its parents. I think this will be most beneficial for me in regard to learning more about human nature - a good opportunity to study the basics of human life: the conception, the pregnancy, the delivery, and of course the parenting itself: how to interact with a new human being, its development… ".

Picard leans back in his chair, in a futile attempt to ease the pressure coming on over his forehead. Perhaps the android has fallen straight into the Uncanny Valley and broken his sense of self. Possibly he has gone a bit far with the imitating humans thing. Picard casts a glance to LaForge for any clues in the matter. None is given.

"Mr Data.. I am not sure what you are saying, or if indeed you still have your senses with you - no wait." Picard says, raising his hand to stop the forthcoming protest.

"You do realise you are not a biological being? You are, despite your admirable efforts, still physically a machine. LaForge is a human. You are most certainly NOT a human!" He turns to his engineer. "Mr LaForge, surely you are not encouraging this nonsense." His words come out a bit too much like a plea for his own liking.

LaForge looks up. "Sir…I hope you excuse me for not enthusiastically discussing my private life. I'll say as much as this. We have talked about it, and we have decided to build a bio-mechanical child. Not a clone of me but a mix of both of us. We would need to use the lab for this. Like Data said, normal family planning... in the laboratory. We were gonna inform you and get the permissions necessary, but Q sort of beat us to it."

And with that, LaForge clams up again.

"I see." Picard says, the myriad of possible complications hitting him at once. Security issues, time issues, higher ranking Starfleet officers coming a-snooping. Religious groups appearing out of nowhere, protesting the union between man and machine. The possibility that it might go all terribly wrong again. No, this is not a good idea at all. He will tell them so.

He only now sees that they are holding hands below the desk.

_Starfleet was founded to seek out new life._ Well, here is a chance to do just that.

"Mr LaForge, Mr Data. You seem to be sure of your decision. I do respect your privacy, but you have to understand that I take a special interest in this. I wish to know the exact details of what you are planning to do here on board. Or you will be forced to execute your plans outside of this ship and of Starfleet. One more thing: I expect you to keep this to a select circle of friends. We don't want Haftel and his ilk making surprise visits."

Seeing their relieved expressions, he has to smile. "And when the child comes, I will gift it a parrot".

—

They are working away in the lab during their off hours. Data is often seen working while LaForge sleeps, between his night watch and his daily duties. They have been given a private lab of their own, to avoid the word getting out and causing a surprise visit from Haftel.

The first and easiest step is quickly ticked off the list: mapping Geordi's genome. Using the standard genetic code, SGC, as a starting point it is quick work to make the changes so that it matches Geordi's code exactly. The program character string clocks in at 672.002 Federation standard pages. Data says the code is beautiful because the triple groupings of A are so harmoniously placed. Geordi says that is a compliment he has never received before.

It is no small task, taking the SGC and changing it according to what Data's genome would look like were he a human. A DNA sample from Soong would have helped a lot, but lacking that Geordi thinks they do a pretty decent guesswork. Tweaking the colour of the iris will be hit or miss, but he is never quite sure anyway whether Data's eyes are pale lemon yellow or darkish moss green. In the laboratory light they look a bright lime. Geordi has to check the colour properly, and also steal a kiss or two since his mouth happens to be conveniently close.

While he is in the vicinity he pats down a strand of Data's hair that went astray during the kissing. Data blinks, but gamely pats back in an imitation of what his mate is doing. Geordi can practically hear a new sub-routing forming: _hair-patting_. He's pretty sure Data has started carrying a comb around to counter Geordi's enthusiastic approaches to his person.

He remembers the moment he first messed up Data's hair. In his quarters, on the bed. They were making out for the second time, Geordi feeling bold and terribly excited. With his fingers busy undoing Data's perfectly shaped hairdo, he noticed the strands were harder on the outside and softer underneath:

_"Data…are you using hair gel?"_

_"Yes."_

_"Oh. Cool. I didn't think that you, um, use products."_

_"If I did not my hair would not keep this shape as effectively. It is, after all, normal hair"_

_"...so you're using a…brush?"_

_"A comb. I keep it in the bathroom. I can show it to you if you like to see it?"_

Geordi wonders if the comb in question is anywhere nearby as he tucks another errant strand back into Data's hairdo. Yup, he's pretty sure the comb is now accompanying his boyfriend around the ship. Can't have Third in command look anything but neat and tidy.

"Sorry for interrupting, I just needed to properly check your eye color. You know, for the DNA. What are you working on now?"

Data stretches his arms around Geordi and continues to type on the PADD behind his back. "I am finding ways to make entities work to twice the effect - having amino acids continuously being replicated in the blood stream to assist the bio stomach and have the waste go directly to the power generators."

"Nice going! Time to take a break? Actually, it's late. Time to go to bed I think". Geordi is not sleeping much these days but it doesn't matter, he's having too much fun. The little bed-time he does get is not all sleep time.

"Drop the PADD Data. Your quarters?"

"That would be acceptable. In fact, I just picked a new element for my library "Geordi's preferences. I am curious what you will think".

—

After an undefined amount of time and some advanced acrobatic moves, Geordi comes down from his orgasmic bliss. His heart is racing like he just ran two marathons and he seems to have some kind of pleasure vertigo. _Well, whoa_. A tongue is tickling his belly-button. Come is being licked from his stomach. He lifts his head and feels around for his VISOR with a shaky hand. Oh, he is already wearing it. Well how about that. He dimly sees sparkles of white-gold and a dark head moving up and down, carefully cleaning him.

"Damn…Data. Fuck. Gods. Damn…"

His vocabulary is out in space somewhere. Well, fuck vocabulary. Who needs it. Fuck. He manages to raise himself up on wobbly elbows.

"You are incredible. Seriously".

Data leans back, looking satisfied with himself. He bloody should be. The sheets are damp with sweat. Geordi thinks he will need to drink a large glass of water sometime soon.

"That was…whoa. Fuck me."

"Really, fuck you now? No problem. Have you changed your mind about penetration?"

"No! No, I don't want you to actually…" Geordi feels his cheeks heat up. "Just an…exclamation. No thank you, you've done enough tonight. That was just.."

He stops himself, sees Data's unattended erection. "Oh Data, sorry. Um, can I do something for you? Anything you'd like."

"Hmm? Oh." Data says, following Geordi's gaze down to his erect penis. "No it is fine. I will make it go down so it is not in the way."

"No don't do that! Get over here."

He gets up on wobbly knees while Data scoots up next to him. He puts his hand on Data's erection, spreads out the lubricant emerging from the tip. He suspects their previous sessions where Data did come might have been mostly for show, to make him feel like an accomplished lover but didn't actually give Data that much in return. He wonders why Dr Soong didn't give the multiple-techniques-android a fighting chance of getting mutual pleasure.

"So if I touch you here it doesn't do much for you"

"It is pleasant. I like the sensation of your palm."

"And when I do this?"

"Like I said, it is a nice feeling." A glint of something passes over the android's face. "I am sure I would come if you rub a bit on the top".

"Look, you are trying to make me feel better about this, I can tell. Stop it. You don't have a lot of sensitivity here do you? Or anywhere. What about this then?" He thumbs the underside, just below the head. It's a move that he has used with quite some success on himself throughout the years. Data looks wistful and a bit lost.

"Geordi, I do not know what you are asking. But I appreciate that you are trying."

Hmm. One more item on Geordi's To Do-list. 1) create the world's first android-human child 2) make child's other parent crazy with lust by discovering unknown android kinks.

"All right. If there's nothing I can do, mind if I get a bit of shut-eye? My shift starts in five hours".

Data looks relieved that focus has moved from his penis to Geordi's nap time. He lies down next to Geordi, on his back. "Very well. While you sleep I will run some diagnostics." The android doesn't object when he is manoeuvred into laying on his side, his arms being arranged simultaneously as a pillow and as a blanket. Geordi is pleased they had reached a stage where he can do stuff like this and not get a "I believe you are now displaying affection Geordi?" or "Geordi, I must warn you that I can't reciprocate" or "Geordi why?" this or "Geordi how?" that. The android has gotten way better at just going along with things.

The last things Geordi sees before he put the VISOR away is his arm next to Datas, and how good their skin tones look together.

—

Next day, and its time for Step three: to merge Data's constructed human genome with Geordi's, tailoring a recipe for a new human being from their joined gene pool. Comparably easy work.

Then the truly difficult part begins. Creating Data's machine equivalent to SGC takes some imagination and a fair amount of padd fingertaps. It takes them one week to write the base code, another week to decide what should go where and what should be removed. Data finds to his surprise that at times he is allotting more than 90% of his processor power to one single task: calculating how to meld a bio-brain with a positronic one. They design the quantum entities as tiny strings running in the windings of the bio brain, reaching out with leg-like super thin connectors to the brain's signal receptors.

They argue about the life span of their child. Should it succumb to cell degeneration and tissue fatigue at around 120, as is Geordi's probable fate, or should it shed or replace any failing materials and tick on towards Data's undetermined life-span? They eventually agree on letting the child decide for itself once it is mature enough.

Using existent techniques, like the mini-replicators that enables the replenishment of Data's hair follicles and children's prosthetic limbs to grow with their wearers, they create a nano replicator unit. This is designed to go into the blood stream, building cell structures where needed. For a womb they make a melon-shaped chamber, a foot long, to host the fluid containing the programmed nano-replicators. The chamber can be attached to things, and to themselves, to provide the raw material for their child. Base materials are plenty abound, like carbon, oxygen, hydrogen and nitrogen. Some trace elements and rarer base elements have to be planned for, so Data has collected 60 different elements in a baby bottle. Geordi can't wait to see him put the bottle into the melon-like chamber. But for now the melon is lying in a flat dish of water. Geordi types in the Begin/conception commando on the PADD. The process starts. They hold hands as they watch the water slowly, slowly being absorbed into the melon.

All in a month's work. In nine month's time they will have a baby.


	3. Fat android

There is a problem with the handling of proteins and peptides contra the output of the fusion power generator. Data is not entirely sure the minute generator can provide enough energy, should the bio stomach fail to get the full expected effect. The simulations on his screen gives no conclusive answer. Further investigation is needed.

His door bell diverts 5% processor power to this event.

"Enter."

The door opens to reveal Counsellor Troi.

"Hello Data. May I come in for a while?"

"Naturally. Please."

She beams a smile at him as she approaches his work station. He notes that she is emitting more sweat than she normally would in her physical condition, at this time of day, all factors considered, and her cheeks are slightly flushed. He makes the conclusion she is excited to see him. Her body posture indicates she would like to give him a hug, the likelihood of which he estimates to be approx 99,9%.

"I just heard the news! How wonderful, congratulations!"

If she was a homo sapiens her pupils would most likely be dilated with affection. He indulges himself to calculate that they probably would have been 26%-32% more open, considering the light in the room, etc, etc, but he aborts the process after 120.31 milliseconds, because then he is hugged.

He can feel her small hands on his back, and there's a slight pressure as she leans her head briefly against his chest. He gives his best "friendly" hug back.

"Counsellor. Deanna. Thank you." He relaxes his arms into casual arm-mode and bids her to sit. "We are very…Geordi is very excited. I am - anticipating."

She smiles, but he can see from the tension in her corrugator supercilii she is not only happy. He waits, eyebrows slightly raised.

Troi leans forward in the chair, elbows on knees. In the time it takes her to blink and open her mouth to speak he indulges in some more observations. She had an omelette with tomato and chilli pepper for lunch, and she ate chocolate not long ago. She is in the ovulating phase. She put up her hair with haste very recently, probably because she was hurrying to come here to see him. He concludes her hair style is due to her desire to look presentable and her raised core temperature, which in turn is due to the chilli, her menstrual phase and her eagerness to see him. Sherlock Holmes would have approved of his deducting skills.

Data makes a note of 'Troi: lunch: omelette with tomato and chilli pepper'.

Deanna says: "I know you are still thinking about Lal. That's only natural. And having another child can stir up things anew. Should you want to talk, please, don't hesitate to seek me out…anytime."

"Thank you. I am sure that will not be necessary. I have "made my bed" more carefully this time. Starfleet cannot take this child away because it will be half-human. Geordi shall be the sole guardian to avoid any concerns regarding my parenting abilities. In the event of his demise custody will go to his family. I believe they will let me help raising the child. As far as structure maintenance, Geordi and I have prepared with holodeck models of the brain. The brain, which of course if the most complicated.." He stops.

Troi is smiling but she looks sad, her eyes are watering. He does not know why this is.

"Deanna? I am sorry if I upset you?"

Troi shakes her head. "No Data, you haven't upset me. Not at all. I just really wish the best for you, all three of you." She smiles again, and this time her corrugator supercilli is relaxed.

She clasps her hands together. "Now.. where is the chamber where it is all happening? I'm so curious to see what it looks like!"

—

The growing chamber they have started to call "the melon" is solid to the touch but malleable, like a firm dough, and is currently about the size of a pineapple. It doesn't actually look like a melon for most of the time, like when it's absorbing new building material from its surroundings. Then it adopts more of a half-melon shape, the broad flat side firmly attached to whatever it is using as a material source.

The surface is peach-soft and has a random human skin colour; for some reason they ended up with a dull coffee with milk. Geordi thinks that they should probably have put some thought into the aesthetics of the chamber, maybe programmed some extra cool features like glow-in-the-dark or chameleon skin.

The unimaginatively coloured lump currently sits in Geordi's quarters on its tray, together with gold and iron filings and a lot of water. Geordi is scanning its progress with a device borrowed from Dr. Crusher, watching the inner structures as they are displayed on a screen beside it. He notes with satisfaction that everything is going to plan so far. The bones have begun to take shape; beautiful but tiny constructions of gold, duranium and normal bio bone marrow.

A lot of gold is needed for the skeleton, because gold makes up the Lion's share of the inner structure of the bones. Gold provides the transition between the outer android duranium shell and the inner bone marrow. The skeleton structure is based on bird-bones, much like Data's own, to avoid the skeleton being too heavy to operate properly. Strands of duranium weave through the golden sponge-like structure together with blood vessels. Geordi thinks it looks like underwater coral reefs.

He plans to take the melon to work today, to give it some energy and some new human material to work with.

They have made a harness for carrying the melon around. It's constructed so the wearer can comfortably walk around with the melon underneath the clothes, either on the back or the front of the body.

Data is once again dead set on getting the optimal human experience; he is determined to wear the melon on his stomach, like a human female. Geordi on the other hand is not as eager to partake in any female experience. When he carries the melon, it's done in camel-style.

He reaches out to the big lump on the tray and pats it gently on its upper side.

"You gonna come with Daddy to work today huh?"

The melon doesn't reply. He imagines there must be some gurgling sound at least as the fluid moves around inside, but nothing that is loud enough to reach his human ears.

He pulls down his uniform jacket, picks up the melon, plonks it in place in the harness and then swings one arm through, then the other, and closes the harness on the front. There.

The melon immediately molds itself against his back. It's a noticeable hump, but when he puts the uniform on it disappears into the loose fabric. He haven't planned how to feed it when it gets bigger, probably have to be during the night or on shore leave.

"You gonna behave today? Don't eat too much of Daddy's atoms now."

It's a weird feeling to know that while he goes about his daily business, thousands of super-tiny membranes are pushing little paths between his skin cells, stopping precisely at their destined targets inside his body. He thinks it's good that he can't actually see little atoms of manganese and barium and whatever being sucked out from him. That would be way too strange.

The melon is warm against his back. It's not that he minds it, but they COULD just have put it on a dog or something, letting the membranes harvest the animal at its leisure. Data however argued it would be more like a proper human pregnancy if they gave their own energy and matter to the growing fetus. Geordi can see his point. Besides, his dog-idea would not have a good ring to it when their child starts asking about how it came about.

—

It is magnificent. Shiny surfaces, newly polished floor, something that resembles faux window dressings. And _portraits_, for gods sakes!

Picard looks out over the meeting room. There is even a flower arrangement. The Ten Forward staff has really outdone themselves.

It is considered an honour to hold high ranking officer's meetings on board, and those meetings are expected to be as appropriately framed as possible when the honour comes to one's ship. When he gave the order "General meeting: I want the Hull room ready. Make it stately" this was honestly not what he had in mind - surely a quick wipe-down of the table and some flowers would have been enough? - but he suspects his staff has made the correct call. His guests seem very pleased.

General Ryni is chairing the meeting, and as always when Ryni is doing something he takes his sweet time about it. This is not why Picard joined Star Fleet.

"So then, Item Five." Ryni taps one of his many PADDs. There must be four or five in front of him. Almost one for each arm.

"The recent manifestations in QB-S303, and more specifically on the command bridges of the ships in that vicinity. I have brought some data from… well I should perhaps start by giving you a quick brief."

Ryni takes up a handkerchief and wipes his gills and antennae. "The last months there has been strange occurences on three ships: _Tempest_, _Scholl_ and _Politkovskaya_. We count 18 incidents in total. I have the exact dates here, we will get back to those in a moment. What is worth noting is that it looks like the anomalies are connected to a specific location in space. The captain of the_ Scholl_ tested this theory by laying anchored in F-D , and sure enough…12 of the aforementioned 18 incidents has occured onboard the _Scholl_. The anomalies consists of matter, mostly light particles, suddenly appearing in thin air like small specs of light, growing in size to between an apple up to a sofa.."

Picard quenches a snort. Ryni is known for an informal, some say disrespectful, way of speaking. He is glad there are proper data hiding among the General's PADD-stack so they don't have to waste their time analysing units of fruit and furniture.

"..and then shrinking again until they are gone. Our instruments don't see them coming at all. Like I said, thin air. These apparitions shimmers in different colours, and are as far as we know semi-solid. One appeared half-way inside a steering console." He frowns. "Thank fully they don't seem to doing any damage. And they move around a bit, float like possums in a swimming pool."

There's snickering around the table.

"Now, let's assemble our communal knowledge and see if we can bring some clarity. Picard. I gather you had a simulation made of the data I sent you before this meeting?"

"I did indeed". Picard hits his command bagde "Picard to Data. Bring me the model of the F-D 11.3 incidents."

"Aye Sir."

—

Data walks in with a briskly gait, holo beamers in hand. "Sirs. Captain." The mood changes in the room, as it is prone to do when people unfamiliar with Data suddenly find themselves in close vicinity to his android officer.

Picard watches with pride as his officer explains patterns of energy traces, light particles suddenly appearing and disappearing, and methodically points out important details in the 3d model being projected at the center of the meeting table. He looks all the parts of a teacher or a professor, leaning forward over the table to point out the furthest curve of the energy pattern.

"So in conclusion Sirs, we could be looking at a rift in space-time."

The meeting looks rightly impressed. Picard is satisfied. "Thank you Data. That is all."

"Sirs. Captain." Data collects his presentation material and exits. Some participants discreetly turn to look after him.

"Right, a short break I think." Picard says. "There are replicators at the end of the room for your use. And to mark this special occasion we have a…coffee maker!"

Cheers erupt around the table, and chairs eagerly scrape outwards. Thank providence they remembered to bring the portable coffee-maker in here. He looks over to General Merbahan, the portly gas-filled Xiban who harbours an illogical aversion against replicated coffee. An aversion that could play badly into the remaining post-coffebreak discussions. A Merbahan not caffeinated enough is someone you wouldn't want to be around for long.

He sips his tea when Merbahan waddles over to him, both gas bags deflated and hanging at xis sides. The coffee must have fallen to xis liking.

"Well Picard, thank you for indulging in an old xiban's folly! The coffee is excellent."

Xis gas bags wobble. Picard smiles politely.

Ryni decides to join their little group. "Fascinating presentation by Lt. Commander Data. Who knew sector F-D 11 was such an interesting area?" Ryni sips his coffee through a tentacle. "Say Picard.. what are you feeding your android? It seems to have gotten a bit fat around the middle since last time I saw it."

Merbahan picks up the joke: "Bit of a beer gut developing there? I guess the ship's lager is too good even for machinery to stay away, huh?" They chuckle.

—

"Picard to Data. My office now."

—

It's not the obvious signs of a bulging stomach, because there are none. Just a barely noticeable stretching of the uniform over Data's waistline. What is the issue here is that walking around the ship with That Thing (the melon as they insist calling it) is out of the question, at any stage in its development.

He explains this in no uncertain terms to his attentive senior officer while pacing around his desk. He hopes this time he has made himself perfectly clear, and that it will take effect in that thick duranium skull.

"But Captain, its - "

"There will be no wearing of that thing when anyone else is present, senior officers of this ship excluded. You can wear it in your quarters, or when you work alone. We cannot risk any rumours starting." He glances at Data's almost-flat belly.

"Today at the meeting I had to invent some fib about you having traits that made you function as a floating device if we should crash into a body of water! And that you just had tested them and didn't have time to deflate properly. Have you heard anything more preposterous! Now that was bad imagining on my part." He runs a hand over his head. "At least they got a laugh out of it. Please, don't make a fool of me like that again."

"Aye Sir. Understood."

"Good. That was all Mr. Data."

The android doesn't budge from the chair.

"Captain, may I ask a personal question?"

—

When Geordi comes back from his shift in engineering there are piles of clothes around the melon tray. Everything is neatly folded and meticulously stapled into a shape resembling a small roof-less igloo.

He can see some are his own off-duty clothes, some are uniforms, yellow, red, blue, and some he has no idea what they are. That ugly rainbow-cololoured thing must in any case belong to Wesley.

"Um, Data?"

There is a splashing sound from the bathroom. "I am in here Geordi. I am washing the chamber."

Data emerges with the melon on his arm, a towel wrapped around it.

"Data… what are these clothes doing here? Is that my old Starfleet trainee tee?"

"Yes. I have taken some items from your wardrobe, I hope you would not mind."

"Okay. No it's no problem." He spots a fluffy sequined blue thing. "Is that Dr. Crusher's party sweater?"

"Yes. I also have acquired items from Troi, Riker, Wesley, and the Captain. The Captain was most forthcoming and lent me his oldest, most personal items. Worf would not give me any. To answer your question what they are doing here, I am creating a familiar environment for the chamber so that its inhabitant, when the sense of smell is activated, immediately is surrounded with smells from its family." He wipes the melon with the towel and puts it down in its tray, inside the textile walls.

"Data." Geordi laughs. "You have built a nest for it."

He puts his arms around his boyfriends waist as Data adjusts Riker's frilled pink shirt to form a bit of a roof. "Now that is an ugly shirt, must be for his infamous Risa shore leaves." He turns Data around so they are face to face.

"Babe, you should pull rank. Order Worf to give up his wardrobe. I'm sure he got some Klingon high fashion stashed away he secretly wants to show off."

He feels Data up, squeezes his butt. Data pinches his in response.

"Or…there's an old mouldy buffalo hide in the lounge at C-deck. That should be a good substitute."


	4. Drunken Musings

This was not intended to be more than one or maybe two chapters, but it sort of steered off track...if anyone's waiting for a cute hum-droid baby to appear, sorry that it's taking so long. :) Chapter Text

When Geordi wakes up for another shift he's happy to feel Data lying right next to him. They haven't seen each other for two days, due to mismatching shifts and a busy schedule. The melon is where he put it the night before, in a deep dish on a table next to the bed. It's been seven months since they started their project and the melon has grown to a hefty size, following the normal human developing curves.

He stretches under the covers. "…gwaargh…..Morning honeycakes."

The bed moves like it does when Data turns to face him. A hand is placed on his chest. "Good morning Geordi, honeycakes".

Geordi reaches over and kisses him, threads fingers through his bed-hair. Data might need to work a bit on his verbal expressions of endearments.

He hums appreciatively as Data melts into the kiss, wrapping an arm around his back. At least his physical expressions of endearment are just fine. He wishes the work day could start an hour later, or maybe never. But they only have about half an hour before Geordi needs to be in Engineering and Data on the bridge.

He gasps into the kiss when a warm hand sneaks beneath the waistband of his underwear to caress his hip. He presses up to Data, pushes one leg between his mates'. "Mmmm. We have time?"

"Yes Geordi, we have approximately 42 minutes and 23 seconds, not excluding dressing and bathroom time. Judging from the timing of our previous intimate encounters we have plenty of time for 'a quickie'.

Geordi laughs: "All right by me. Baby, hand me the VISOR."

There is not enough time to properly test his latest theory on potential android erogenous zones: the lower back panel. The other places he has tried previously has been met with polite but not exactly earth-shattering arousal. The lower back panel could really be the ticket though. It's close to the off-switch and close to Data's butt, and that should account for something. He shall try it tonight instead.

But right now it's time to make the best of 42 minutes.

His boyfriend's eyes widen with surprise as he is pushed over on his back and straddled. Now this is a sight Geordi will never tire of: Data looking up at him, his dark hair spread out on the pillow, eyes heavy-lidded and lips freshly kissed and parted, waiting.

—

One quickie and one breakfast later (coffee and toast for Geordi, silicone fluid for Data), they are cleaning their teeth together. Data is quite the maestro of teeth cleaning; he moves the detractor as efficiently as his violin bow and finishes in half the time Geordi takes; he starts on his hair styling routine while Geordi gurgles and spits minty suds.

Geordi can see Data looking slightly troubled when he puts the mouth wash lid back on askew. He knows that by tonight it will be neatly screwed back on the right way, all traces of sticky residue carefully wiped off, and placed in a 90 degree angle to the water tap.

"What are your tasks for today then, anything special?"

"Today I have bridge duty until the end of Day shift. Then I will secure the project cargo of quantum computing material from Uuri in Cargo bay H. I intent to bring the melon since I will be alone." Data smooths down his pointed sideburns. Geordi secretly makes plans to mess them up later.

"Then afterwards I have a quick briefing with Ensign Stenet, for which I will deposit the melon back in its tray."

"Aye, honeycakes."

"During the briefing with Ensign Stenet I intend to discuss a proposal she presented to me earlier."

"Oh? What kind of proposal?"

"She asked me to have sex with her. It is not a common occurrence for someone to suggest sexual conduct with me; I was surprised that she proposed such a thing. It has increased the number of humans wanting to engage in sexual activity by 50%." Data puts back his comb on the shelf.

"Wait, what?"

Ensign Stenet suddenly drops approximately 700% on Geordi's Esteem list.

"Apparently she overheard you and I talking in Ten Forward the other night and got curious. Remember, when we discussed what we did in the Jefferies tube when you got your foot stuck in the vent."

"Um, Data…"

This was something Geordi hadn't needed to address before, since it had been a non-issue up till now. He had seen crew members look curiously at his boyfriend, sometimes even longingly, like that young woman that sometimes played in Data's string quartet, but Data had seemed totally oblivious to the attention and no-one had acted upon it. Until now.

Data is standing even straighter than usual, a bright expression on his face. He seems proud that someone thought to ask his services.

"We are to meet tonight. She wanted me to stay the whole night but I will give her only two hours. That way it will fit in your schedule."

"Actually… maybe you should turn her down."

"Why? I can spare the time and she seemed quite excited at the prospect. Your schedule says you will be occupied with shield maintenance during those two hours."

"Well…" He looked into a pair of guileless yellow eyes. Data cocks his head.

"Geordi?"

Oh boy, this could take some explaining. "To be honest I don't like the idea of you getting physical with others."

"Oh. Why?"

Geordi groans inwardly. He knows that to Data, the only difference between helping someone into a shuttle and giving them an all-nighter with extra trimmings is that the latter involves slightly more processor power.

He clearly needs to explain this in a pedagogical and logical way.

"Because… I just don't, ok? Check your data banks for how human couples usually work."

Data's head twitches. "Aha I see. You would like me to withhold any sexual services to others because you wish to be the sole recipient. You worry I would start spending my time with someone else rather than you. You regard me as "taken" by you and want to limit my execution of romantic and sexual intimacy to you alone."

"Yes… that's it, yeah. Pretty much."

"You do not have to worry Geordi, you are special to me and my attachment to you is unwavering. Even so, I will do as you suggest and decline proposals from others. I shall let Ensign Stenet know she will have to ask someone else."

"Thank you, that's good to hear."

Data gives him a minty kiss and briskly exits the bathroom to get his uniform. Well, Geordi thinks, he doesn't look too unhappy about turning the curious ensign down. And he did learn something new about the logic non-logic of the human species.

—

A party is going on in Ten Forward, and Geordi is present. He had remembered the occasion just in time. The head of Admin was going into retirement and it would look bad if nobody from Engineering would attend. And he had already chipped in for the gift.

Data is down in the loading dock with the melon, checking the recently received cargo, so Geordi is looking around for any familiar faces to avoid as much small talk as possible.

Riker is there, and Dr. Crusher; she raises her glass as he walks by to get a glass of his own at the drink buffet. He passes the snack bowls but doesn't stop, no snacks for him tonight. He has been packing on a bit of weight lately.

"…with a robot, it's sick."

He only catches the end of the sentence floating over the din, but the hushed and disgusted tone indicates it could have something to do with him moving through the room. He glances over to the snack display that he just passed, where a group of ensigns is standing partly hidden by a large aspidistra plant. They haven't noticed he is looking their way. He moves a bit closer, out of curiosity and some ill-advised sense of masochism.

"It doesn't have any feelings, no real grasp of its surroundings. I mean, he's not even fucking it properly.. sex happens between people. A robot is not a person"

"Exactly. He's basically masturbating with an advanced hard drive."

"Hey guys, what if I stick my dick into the port over there and call the ship's computer my girlfriend?"

They all laugh.

"I'm glad we're on different sections so I don't have to work with him. It would be so awkward."

"Ditto. What a weirdo. He must be afraid of real human partners, with.."

Geordi moves away from the group, he has heard enough and his self-restraint is wearing thin. He scolds himself for walking away, and at the same time scolds himself for thinking confronting them would be a good idea. Now would be a great time to - in theory - walk up to the bastards with a good one-liner, something about pencil dicks and tiny holes in the wall maybe, and then leave them in exhaust fumes as he speeds away victorious.

Sadly, wit has never been his forte. He would cause a scene and he's not even sure the rest of the crowd would stand up for him.

There's Dr. Crusher again at the bar, she's waving him over. He shakes the ugly comments off for now and walks up to her with a smile. "Doctor! Whatever you're having I'll have a double."

—

A few drinks later Geordi feels all right with the world again. Beverly is the perfect drinking partner: witty even when smashed and doesn't fall off the bar stool.

"You're going to be a … you know!" she exclaims, omitting the word 'father' though there is no risk of anyone other that Geordi hearing her voice through the general dim of the party. "Being…that, It will change your life forever. You are such a pretty couple and you'll be great parents!"

Geordi blushes about the 'pretty couple' bit. Well, they are actually. They look bloody amazing together. Too bad not everyone can appreciate it.

"Not everybody thinks so Bev. Just now.." No, not just now. He don't want to spoil the mood. Besides, Beverly might seek them out and cause that scene he's wary of.

"...anyway, some people think its weird that I'm in a relationship with Data. I don't get that. I'm part artificial myself. So this is really a case of a guy that's 5% machine dating another guy that is 100% machine."

Beverly nods, emphatically.

"We are not that different. And what's the deal with a 'soul'! I tell you, if we could get the replicators properly upgraded we can create backup copies of you, or the Captain, or anybody. Not a problem. We could run a backup each morning. If something would happen to you, we can run the code for the yesterday-you through the replicator and get an identical Dr. Crusher as you were yesterday: same memories, thoughts, everything. Or consider this: we could create another Beverly - you would still be you, but so would the copy. Both of you would think a copy had just appeared, because they would both be THE Dr. Crusher."

He has got the steam up now so he's just rolling along. "Because it's all in here." He points to his temple. "Chemicals! Your consciousness is just the product of your components. That's what I'm trying to tell Data, that becoming more human is not being more than the sum of your parts; you are what you are. Any new abilities would still be a product of his original programming. Because it would generate the new abilities!"

He takes a long sip on his cocktail. "No escaping the components."

Beverly is not giving up this match of alcohol-fuelled wisdom:

"But all of that is semantics! It's bordering on philosophy. It's like the question of free will… do we have free will or is our lives steered by destiny? Well it doesn't matter does it? The point is moot!"

She lifts her glass to take another sip of Brackla. The glass has the indecency to be empty. Deeply affronted but not defeated she catches the bartender's eye and points meaningfully at her glass.

What was she saying? Oh yeah, destiny: "The illusion of free will is the same as the 'illusion' of a soul" - she takes a sip of the re-filled drink - "You can call the sum of your parts your soul, because it is the essence of your being. It's constantly changing, like you are changing, Data is changing… you can never step into the same hum- the same river twice!"

Geordi laughs into his beer. "Step into the same human!"

His communicator beeps. "O'Brian to La Forge"

O'Brian?

"La Forge here. Hi Miles."

"Sir, we've had a break-in. The content in Cargo bay H was taken."

Geordi gets warm, then cold in the space of a second. He is suddenly perfectly sober. Cargo bay H…?

"But Data was in Cargo bay H… Is he all right?"

No reply. He tries again.

"He's all right?"

O'Brien doesn't say what Geordi wants to hear.

"Sir, you better go to the Captain's quarters."


	5. Detour

It's all he can do, not to fall over. He goes through the logs meticulously, every single one, looking for clues. Clinging on to the white noise that is space, trying to find patterns where no pattern exist.

He's been staring at screens for a day shift and a night shift. Before that he had lain in his bed for half a night shift (Captain's orders), staring into nothing, and the rest of the night had been spent talking to Councellor Troi about his situation. He's worried that either Crusher, Troi or the Captain will soon have a say about whether he should go and lie in his bed again. He can't spare the time.

The last couple of days has been eventful. A whole cargo room full of q-bits stolen, transported away like their security and alarms didn't even exist. Starfleet's security system experts are on the case, combing through their logs for energy patterns, looking for clues on how this could possibly have happened.

The cargo had apparently, for all means and purposes, been moved via beamers deep into empty space and had disappeared. It was, quite simply, gone.

Gone was also the sole personnel present in the cargo bay holding at the time of the incident.

But not gone without a trace.

"They took their time about it…" Riker says, pushing a screen into view. Geordi's brain is tired, so tired now, but he forces himself to focus.

"…but here, finally, is the unofficial log file from the company manufacturing the q-bits. As luck has it, they keep a tracker on their deliveries. The tracking ends when the cargo arrives at the destination…"

He hits a button, making the monitor flicker into life.

"…or should end, but luckily for us their system isn't all that strict on time stamps, nor privacy."

Figures dance over the screen: _"…43.00/QA-S247.H-I. - 43.21/QA-S247.H-I. cargo delivered SF Enterprise NCC-1701-D/Data, Lt C check OK END"_

Then more numbers and letters, in another colour:

_"43.00/QA-S247.H-I., 43.01/QA-S245.D-E., 43.02/QA-S002.B-W., 43.02/QB-S784.D-N., 43.03/QB-S303.H-U."_

A voice behind him. Picard. "To QB-S303 in under three seconds?"

"Yes. Beamer technology." Riker turns on a holomap. A large sphere of space appears in the room. Their location from two days ago is represented by a pea-sized orange-glowing dot. It has a blue thin line extending from it into space. "If the readings from the manufacturers are correct our cargo has travelled in a straight line, almost at warp 1 speed."

Picard frowns, closes in on the space holo model. "If we follow the line…" he uses the side of a PADD to quickly elongate the blue line drawn up by the computer "…we pass F-D . I had a meeting recently about that area."

"The light manifestations on the _Scholl_? Could be worth looking into."

"Number One, send out a message to all ships in the vicinity, detailing what happened to us and who was lost. Tell them to keep a look out. I shall talk to Captain W'r't on the _Scholl_. Maybe she has some observations that are of interest."

Geordi stares at the holo model, sunken and hollowed-eyed. QB-S303…he doesn't think he's ever been there. As far as he knows its an empty place, the only native species being a race of undeveloped trilobite-like beings that hasn't taken to space yet. How did they get the q-bits? Why would they even need q-bits?

A strong hand on his shoulder breaks his reverie. "Mr La Forge. Under the circumstances…"

"I'm fine. I can't sleep anyway. I can't sleep… If he tries to get in contact…"

"La Forge. I ordered you to bed yesterday. Now I will do it again. Get some rest, man."

The Captain gives a short nod to Riker who exits the room with even longer and more forceful strides than normal.

"Talk to Dr. Crusher if you need help sleeping. We need you as a functioning Chief Engineer on board this ship. If you can't fulfil that role, tell me immediately and I will arrange a temporary replacement." He pauses. "Don't think I'm not sympathetic to your situation. We are doing our utmost to find him."

He is not going to lose it in front of the Captain. "Yes Sir."

As he is lying in his bed, he feels the cold sheet next to him where Data should be right now, updating his drivers and running system checks. He glances over to the tray on the side table. He has just left it as it was, and now the water has almost evaporated, gold flakes and iron filings forming a thin sediment at the bottom.

The Captain has ordered him to test the warp drive on the newest Starfleet transporter craft. He knows this is an attempt to take his mind off things. The engines on this craft work like a dream, the transition from impulse drive to warp drive smooth enough to safely have a sip of hot coffee or clean one's VISOR. It has been tested and re-tested by others, his is just the honour of taking it for a maiden voyage.

He is going at cruising speed now, the craft attentive and alive under his hands. He tries warp 5, then 7, without any problems. Space stretches out all around him, black and vast. While he banks around an illuminated gas cloud the thoughts come back again: can someone survived being beamed through space like that, over a long distance? Data probably, the melon…maybe. He thinks of the empty tray, feels the warm phantom weight on his back.

One of the alarms on his PADD beeps. He hits Auto and picks it up.

_— h el p ent rp se da soo g — e l pe nte ris e ta s ng —_

He dives for the Save function like a madman, downloads the data from the Enterprise log system. The signal was received twice, 8 and 7 seconds ago, and it came from the Aquilae planet system. As far as Geordi can recall Aquila is nowhere near S303...maybe Data and the cargo took separate paths at some point.

He forwards the message along with his position to the Captain Enterprise as he sets course for Aquila.

"La Forge to Picard. I'm going to investigate this."

He doesn't wait for a reply as he hits warp drive 9.

The small planet Aquilae II is very much off the beaten track. Aquila is in a sleepy, peaceful area of space that doesn't have a single battle or food dish named after it. Aquilae II is an equally harmonious place according to the computer. A stable core, a human friendly atmosphere, earth-like conditions all around. Unlike Earth, however, there is no intelligent life to speak of. There is magnetic activity going on beneath the surface, and the layers of air are prone to bad visibility and thunder storms, but nothing he needs to worry about. It has been visited only once before by humans, in 40116, and that was just to dump trash and load fresh water.

The signal came from 13° 30' S and 34° 00' E which would indicate a place at the equator. He sets the controls to dive, feels the pull of gravity as his craft goes from space travel to air flight.

The atmosphere is hazy, a fine mist covers the surface. An emerald-green area of woodland, streaked through with rivers ending in a turquoise bay, seems to be his destination. In one of the big green fields of trees a glint catches his eye.

There is a clearing in all the green, and in its middle the earth has opened up into a crater, rocks and trees lying thrown in a circle around it. He can spot a small craft, a fighter, sticking up at a 45° angle. He lands his ship close to the scene, trying to avoid the largest rocks and tree trunks, and hurriedly exits.

The fighter looks to be Klingon, and it didn't had a good day. What is a Klingon carrier fighter doing in these parts? Was Data riding in this vessel?

Tricorder up and ready, he stumbles up to the edge of the crater and looks down. The hole is perhaps ten meters deep, and a good thirty across, its edges uneven with tree roots and big rocks. The fighter has made a proper nose dive into the ground. It's a textbook example of one of those crashes that produce Unsalvageables - a ship taking the brunt of the impact with the nose.

He crouches down, tries to get a look at the pilot compartment. It's surprisingly intact as far as he can make out. There is no trace of the main view screen, but the hull frame still hold its shape remarkably well. Even the transmitter signal button is still blinking green. This must be what was used to send the messages.

He can't spot any bodies. If they are still down there they could be thrown into the back, or lie crushed underneath the ship.

"Data? Hello?"

He scans the wreck for life, but nothing registers.

There is something green, metallic under the hull that shouldn't be there. He can see parts of pulsar cannons, and there's a bit of a wing sticking out. A wing that for all he knows looks very much like something from the days of old Captain Kirk. He walks around the rim of the crater, stumbling over roots and rocks to get a better view.

From the other side he can see a second wing and parts of the hull. There are two ships down there, the one on the bottom having a REALLY bad day. It looks like a…well, maybe a 7250 Starfleet fighter. It's hard to tell. He doesn't recall the 7250 line having that colour, and there's a pulser phaser cannon down there looking pretty up to date. If it's a 7250, someone has fixed it up recently.

Mostly by luck he notices a faint thermo reading behind him. Some of the flattened and crushed vegetation is a tiny bit warmer than the surrounding undergrowth. Now when he looks for it he can see the trail leading into the woods. Someone did survive the crash, and managed to leave the scene.

He cautiously follows the track in among the trees. The trail is easy to follow even without the tricorder. The grass and undergrowth are flattened and twigs have been broken. His heart sinks when he sees yellow drops on leaves and stones further into the woods. He would know this substance anywhere. Android fluid.

He hurries along the trail now, getting increasingly worried. It looks like something was dragged along here, or dragged itself. There were no Klingons in the crater.. Data must have found a ship somehow and tried go back to the Enterprise, but got Klingons on his tail and they both crashed, and the Klingons continued the pursuit on foot. He hope he's imagining it, but there's a LOT of fluid now and it seems to be more and more of it. He must be really injured! And what about the melon?

He's so preoccupied with making his stomach knot up with horror visions that he almost trips over the body. It lies partly hidden by big fern leaves, bent over a rotting log. His heart stops for a second until he sees the Klingon ridges on the forehead. There's dark blood staining the face, the Klingon's features twisted in pain. Both legs seem to be broken in various places. To crawl this far from the wreck…it must have been incredibly painful.

The body has already begun to swell due to the hot temperature. Something long and shiny with many legs crawls away from under it. He doesn't linger to find out what it is.

The second body is not far, and it is also a Klingon. This one lies in full view across the track, branches broken around him. There's a hole in his side, presumably the cause of death. With a wound like that he must have been incredibly strong to make it this far from the crash site before he bled out. His weapon is drawn, his face frozen in a defiant snarl.

The trail continues further into the woods, the android fluid spills making it easy to follow. The woods get lighter, there are less trees here and more ferns and shrubs. Whatever the Klingons intended to do with Data they didn't succeed. From the look of the track it's only Data now, dragging something behind him. Geordi gets cold. The melon? No he would never drag it behind him. Maybe a third body. Or maybe he was dragging himself? His heart sinks again.

The cliff outcrop comes as a surprise, just a few meters further ahead. Sun trickles down through the leaves, creating bright green spots of light dancing over ferns and moss. He can hear water running in the distance and in another mindset he would have enjoyed this scenery. He follows the trail around the cliff. To his right the landscape opens to reveal a sloping meadow, and a river further down in the valley.

The trail ends at a heap of boulders and rocks. Geordi has to look twice to spot the dark crevice between two boulders. Did Data crawl in there? It's big enough for Geordi to enter if he just crouches down a bit. Damp, cool air drafts out from the dark hollow. He peers inside, tries to make out something of the interior but he can see only darkness.

"Data?" His voice echoes back, the crevice bigger than he imagined.

"Geordi! You found me!"

Oh thank providence! Relief washes over him in waves. "Data! Are you hurt?"

"Please, I need help, quickly!"

Geordi inches into the darkness, feeling his way along the walls. He is crawling slowly, letting the VISOR adjust to the lighting conditions. The smell of android is getting stronger. Why did Data crawl into this crevice instead of just waiting at the crash site? After escaping the two injured Klingons following him he could have returned to…

A sudden thought makes his hairs stand on end. Maybe the Klingons weren't the hunters.

"I am in here Geordi. Just a bit further."

Maybe they were the prey.

He wills away the flutter of panic and steadies himself, carefully peeks around a turn in the crevice. There in the darkness is a familiar form, glowing white-gold through his VISOR.

But the gold is struck through with poison green and blood red.

"Lore?"

"La Forge." There's a wheezing sound, a broken laugh. "Will you come into my parlour."


	6. A fanged and bitter thing

The voice is hoarse and lacks the gusto Geordi remembers from their earlier encounter, but this time there is no mistaken identity.

Dread pools in his stomach, fear of an attack fast as a lightning strike, of hard metal fingers that would rip through his body. Through the darkness he can begin to make out details - Lore is holding a phaser, aiming right at him.

By instinct more than conscious thought Geordi pull himself back and out of the line of fire, the bottlenecked turn in the narrow tunnel protecting him from immediate fire. He fumbles with his belt, hands shaking, manages to get his own phaser out and ready, expecting Lore to lunge around the crook at any second. _Please no I don't want to die._

He steadies his hand, remembers to breathe. It's quiet on the other side; Lore hasn't moved. He finds his voice somewhere, it comes out more shaky that he expects.

"What are you doing here? Where is Data?"

"Oh, Data. I will tell you if you get in here and say hello properly. It seems like I could use some…assistance. I'm a bit under the weather." There's a scraping of metal against stone. "I know you are probably not eager to help me. I got ahead of myself on your ship last time. But I'm sure you'll forgive me. After all it'd be the _humane_ thing to do."

Geordi swallows around the lump in his throat. Lore must have taken heavy damage in the crash if he is actually asking for help. How he got here from being beamed into space a year ago is anybody's guess, but here he is, in all his evil glory. Geordi has been following the wrong android. His hopes coming crashing down, making way for stomach-curling disappointment. He is effectively back to zero again.

"You have no idea where he is do you? The signal you sent to the Enterprise was for him to come here, right? Because you thought he would help you. You thought he was on board."

"Aren't you clever. I don't know where he is in this very moment, but I can easily find out."

Geordi rubs his VISOR, tries to think clearly. Of course Lore would make it sound like he had information on Data's whereabouts. It would be his only chance to get Geordi to help him. But here they are in Aquila, a long way from where the last cargo signal was registered. It is not very likely that the leaking android had anything to do with Data's disappearance.

At least there doesn't seem to be any immediate danger for his life. If Lore was capable of attacking, the dangly remains of Geordi's body would probably be decorating the interior of this cave right now. And maybe there might be a micro chance he DOES know something. A tiny sliver of an possibility.

"Look, I don't know why you think I'd help you. Last time we met you tried to kill me and the entire crew. Tell me what you know, if you know anything at all, and I might give you a head start before I alert Starfleet to your whereabouts."

There's a growl. "Fucking flesh bag." More scraping, a sound of gravel hitting the cave walls. "Look…I assume time is of the essence to you. Well, you and me both. I just need soEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE"

The sound is sudden and screeching. Geordi jumps to high heaven.

"Whoa!"

"Boom went the speaker module. As I was saying, I just need the right tools, that's all. And a finger to hold the knot while I make the bowtie. You only need to take a look at my condition and then skimp off and get the appropriate equipment. It'll take a pig's wink - " a cough breaks his voice, he gurgles and spits before continuing. "- then I'll stake out the way to your little sexbot bed warmer with red tape."

Sexbot. Apparently the word is spread all along the Milky Way and beyond that the Starfleet Soong-android is dating a human. At least the fact hasn't escaped Lore.

Geordi flinches as a phaser comes bouncing around the outcrop, landing just before his feet.

"There's my weapon. Take it. Scan me and you'll find that's the only one I have. Now, get in here… at least you can feed your curiosity. Bet you always wondered what Data looks like on the inside?"

Geordi has to admit that yes, he is curious about the inner workings of the Soong-type androids. Lore does sound weak and relatively harmless, well for being Lore anyway, but it could be a trick to… well he didn't know to what exactly.

He shakes off the feeling that he'll probably come to regret this later and puts Lore's weapon in his belt. His grip on his own phaser is comforting, his finger ready on its trigger. He only hopes he can react fast enough if Lore should get any ideas.

He bends down, squeezes himself around the corner.

The feral android is leaning heavily against the rocky back wall, one hand covering a large black spot on his chest. It is hard to make out what is what in the dark, but some tiny red lights in the black tells him it's a cavity and not a stain. His head doesn't look too good either. Diodes blink merrily and multi-coloured on the left side of Lore's skull, reflecting in the damp cave-wall.

"Hello La Forge. Thanks for visiting."

Geordi runs the scanner to make sure there are no other weapons, the phaser in a steady grip in his other hand.

"Oh, you don't have to worry. I'm completely harmless."

Lore shifts against the rocky wall, his legs stiffly holding him up like crutches. Something is really wrong with his face. It looks like he is wearing a black blindfold.

"Yes, I was hoping for my brother to come here. But you will do. You've worked a lot on Data. You're one of the few who has experience of Soong-type android maintenance." He pauses. A faint drip-drip-drip sound tells that he is still leaking.

"So, now you've seen what the situation is. Off you go then."

Geordi snorts: "I don't trust you a bit. After I get you the tools needed you'll kill me."

"I SAID I will help you find my retard brother!" Lore snarls. "I happen to have a homing device that can get him to your doorstep. So you wouldn't even have to leave your comfy engineer seat. You know, if he got stuck in the shower trying to figure out how water pressure works and you just forgot to check his room."

There's that scraping sound again as he slowly slides down the wall, his feet being pushed along the cave floor by the weight of his body.

Homing device? That sounds incredulous. It sounds like he's making it up.

"And if that doesn't work, if your precious Data is held captive and being tortured, or laying dying somewhere, his last words _'Geordi…why have you abandoned me'_ on his dry and cracked lips…" Lore grunts as he sinks into sitting position. "If that is the case, my device can also pinpoint where the little retard is located. So you can saddle up your white horse and gallop straight there and get him."

The knot in Geordi's belly grows tighter. If Lore really has a device like that it could lead him straight to Data. It is a weak straw to clutch, but right now it's his only one. A trip to the Enterprise and back here is all it takes to find out.

"Okay." He hears his own voice echo in the cave, too hopeful. "Okay. I could bring some tools so you can repair yourself. But first I need to get a better look at what the damage is. It's too dark in here so you need to get out in the light."

Getting out of the confined space would also mean he could keep more distance to Lore - more time for him to fire if needed.

"You don't have darkness vision on that fancy thing? You should get it upgraded." Lore sounds tired. "Right. Just making my way outside will take a while, so that should already tell you something." He slides down until he is flat on his back, then starts pushing himself backwards using his elbows, his legs dragging behind him like dead weight.

Geordi fights his natural urge to help the seemingly crippled figure, but no, there is no way he is getting closer than absolutely needed to that lunatic. He slowly crawls out of the crevice backwards, keeping the distance and his phaser ready.

Finally, gradually, daylight reaches the android.

"Oh.. wow." Geordi lowers his weapon. "You didn't have a good crash"

Lore has dragged himself onto a patch of grass outside the cave. His clothes are torn and singed and large chunks are missing. The fabric is drenched through with yellow liquid in numerous places. His legs are obviously not working but they look intact enough, as does his right arm. His left arm however ends at the elbow. As far as Geordi can see it has broken clean off at the elbow joint, so if the severed arm is around it should be easy enough to reattach.

What is more serious is the large hole in the left side of the android's rib cage, from which yellow fluid is seeping at a steady flow. He can glimpse poly-alloy ribs, red blinking lights, tiny wires, energy generators and other things he can't even guess at what they are.

Lore's face however is what really draws his attention. It looks like he has caught the Klingon fighter with just the left side of his face. His scalp is missing from where the ear should be to the top of the head. Clumps of hair lay matted over blinking diode lights or are sticking up in tufts, sticky with fluid. A bit of bioplast has been torn off on the right side as well, probably where he hit bedrock as the fighter pressed down on him.

What he hasn't seen before, and didn't think was possible, is that the duranium skull itself has actually gotten dented. A shallow groove runs in a line from the temple and down over the forehead. The brow bone and left eye seems to have taken the brunt of the impact with whatever has caused this. The left eye is simply not there anymore, or at least not as far as Geordi can see. He starts to feel a little queasy. The right eye is still in place, but has been pushed back into the skull. Something else is clearly wrong there too; the visible part of the eyeball is all white. Thick amber-coloured fluid is seeping out from under the whitish orb and down over Lore's cheek. Geordi realises he must be effectively blind.

"Well I wouldn't say it is my bloody best crash ever, no." Lore rests on his elbows, his remaining hand on the chest wound pressing back a nest of wires that is threatening to spill out. "Had a smidge of bad luck. I haven't finished running the diagnostics but I think all clues point to things are not good." He looks morose. "My systems tell me I have 12 hours before I go offline, so to speak."

"Where is your arm?"

"I don't know, I took a stroll and LOOKED for it, but can you imagine, I didn't find it. You think this is funny? Fucking human bag of feces!" Lore growls, spitting out a spray of orange phlegm, his remaining hand balling up into a fist.

Geordi backs away a decent distance, just to be sure. "Okay okay. Easy." He holds up his hands in a calming manner, even though Lore can't see him.

His engineer mind starts to tick. For one blessed second he doesn't think solely about Data and the melon. This will be a challenge, a repair on a grand scale. He'll have to bring drills, cables, drivers.. What a chance to learn about the mysteries of Soong's work!

There's a trickle of fluid snaking out from under Lore. "What about your back? Can you turn around?"

"If you think I'd let you have a chance at my off-switch you must be crazy!"

The off-switch. Now there's an idea. Starfleet would approve a switched off and neatly packaged Lore. A chance for Enterprise to undo the mistake of taking him off the shelf in the first place, and an opportunity for the universe to get rid of the disruptive android.

No. The hypothetical tracking device is his hottest lead right now, and a disassembled Lore would not be able, nor very inclined should he ever be re-activated, to give him even the time of day. And it's not like Lore would ever give him a fighting chance of having a go at his switch anyway.

"All right. I will return in a bit with equipment. But I'm not getting close to you. I bring the stuff and you fix yourself, and then you'll get me that homing device. Deal?"

"Great. Hurry." The android looks relieved, suddenly very human. He drops his shoulders and carefully lies down flat against the ground. "I won't wander too far."

—

Riker looks at him like he is crazy, and he is probably right. The crazy ones are the ones that will change the world, as his mum use to say. He has almost gotten the Captain to agree to his plan, though there are still some kinks that needs ironing out.

"I'm not fond of the idea of you going back there alone, Mr La Forge. Lore is incredibly dangerous, even when damaged. You need a team with you. Give him the equipment to make the repairs. Explain to him that our rules abide. If he gives you this device then we will try to get him a milder sentence."

Yeah, still a few kinks, but here comes the iron. "Captain, I think he will less cooperative the more people we send down there….and mentioning the Federation and giving any hint of locking him up will severely diminish my chances. Look, I have a feeling he was listening to me." He is using his most convincing tone. It seems to be working. Picard sternness is thawing into more of a lenient frown. "And it'll only take a couple of hours. I won't go near him, and I'll be armed at all times."

The Captain looks at Riker. "Number One?"

"I say we let you at it, Mr La Forge. Give it five hours. I doubt Lore has any concept of honour and is only looking out for himself. If this tracking device exist at all he will be hard-pressed to let you have it. But, La Forge, I trust you will do a good job of finding this out."

The Captain's expression is unreadable. "Very well. Place a team in orbit around the planet to monitor La Forge's ship on the surface."

He turns back to Geordi "Mr La Forge, you send them a signal every hour via presspad. If they don't hear from you they'll land to investigate. Make it so. And let's hope that we will be enlightened of the whereabouts of Mr Data very soon - "

Picard pauses for a second, a look of compassion streaks over his strict features.

"- Mr Data, and the melon."

—

He packs his blue Starfleet standard bag full: a set of diamond drills, soldering equipment, starter drives, power cells, fusion power kits, a couple of spare q-bits, cables, an assortment of microwires, and a sturdy wrench. In a corner that looks like it might have some space left he crams down an extra powerful phaser. When dealing with Soong's dangerous mistake it's best to be prepared.

The tool belt comes next, with its many holsters: phaser, tricorder with medical functions, regenerator set to bioplast, power jumpstarter, and a multi-purpose bag with bits and bobs. Finally he puts on a heart monitor patch as final safety measure. If it stops sending signals to his orbiting life-line team they have their orders.

He runs towards his craft, imagining every step bringing him closer to Data.


	7. Pritides

Note: This takes place after "Datalore" but before "Brothers" in which Lore nicked the emotion chip, so here he doesn't have it yet = not completely bonkers. :)

* * *

—

The head of the science department was content. The shipment of q-bits had been taken from the Starfleet vessel and put away safely in their own lab. A job well done. Now they could begin to work in earnest on their dimension enhancer.

The bonus of their little expedition had certainly been unexpected. They have heard rumours that Starfleet had an artificial human in its service, but they had never been so lucky as to see it, or even feel its energy trace. But here it was!

It had started talking almost the very instant it arrived from the transporter room. Standard language. The scientist hadn't bothered to switch on his translator, he could guess what it was saying from the look on its sallow face. Asking questions, trying to reason, demanding to be released. It was of no interest to him.

The guards at transport had subdued it at gunpoint and put restraints on it, which it had broken through immediately. That was an impressive feat. He didn't know just how strong this artificial human was, but they would soon find out. The new restraints it was wearing wasn't so much restraining it as promising a high voltage shock if it would tear through them. Now it stood meekly between two guards, its eyes darting around taking in its new surroundings, giving no signs of trying to escape. It was apparently programmed with some instincts of self-preservation.

It looked so strange, with its two legs and one mouth, like a hole in its head. And the arms, so unaesthetic. He had learned somewhere that humans had originated from large plants, and he supposed the arms had been useful for swinging about and picking foodstuffs. The humanoid looked much better now, with its arms neatly collected behind its back, rather than having those long appendixes hanging down freely.

It had begun talking again. Lord almighty, would this be the background noise until they took it apart? At least it seemed calm and subdued, didn't run around in panic or scream like humans usually did.

He walked over the the scanner section of the lab, gesturing for it to follow. It didn't. He gestured meaningfully again, this time with his gun. It looked unhappy, but obediently moved towards the scanners, its long robes flapping.

He wondered about those. It was a Starfleet uniform of some sort, but it looked more like a tent, or a dress from the desert people. He approached the artificial human to feel the fabric of the sleeve, but it flinched and backed away. He tried again, but it backed anew, looking disturbed and anxious.

"All right, I won't touch you. Now, let's scan you and see what you are made of."

—

Data looked at the silvery transparent tube, big enough to fit two people in. It looked like some sort of scanner, or a harvester. The being gestured to it with his weapon, nodding its head encouragingly.

"No I do not wish go in there."

'Pritides' his knowledge bank informed him. A highly developed race of energy clouds that could take a carbon-based form if they wished. For some reason they often choose to look like big insects. Mostly peaceful, hard to communicate with, not interested in anything else but their own race and its survival.

The constantly changing body of the pritide in front of him took on an air of frustration. It pointed again to the tube.

"No."

His restraints buzzed. There was a 0.45 milliseconds blackout, and his body spasmed, but he managed to stay on his feet. This was surely not good for the melon. "Stop. I will go where you point to."

He stepped into the tube, his maternity uniform almost getting caught in a wire. Geordi had complained about his choice to try and imitate a pregnant woman, but had accepted it after a short discussion in which Data had produced many logical arguments. Geordi was always very reasonable.

There was a buzzing sound and a disc of light slowly swept through his body. The pritides in the room gathered expectantly around the scanner.

He saw a 3D model of himself slowly appearing just next to the tube, head first, then shoulders, then onwards down. Intriguing. The model was semi-transparent so he could see all his different parts, down to the finest details, every piece coloured to make it stand out from its neighbours. The pritides watched intently.

And there was the melon! First the top of a tiny duranium head became visible, then the poly-alloy temples and their bio-lining, then the eyes and ears.

The newly constructed subroutine 'human female - pregnant - 201 days" kicked into action and he tried to move one hand protectively over the melon, but his restrains stopped him. He has not yet seen the inside of it in such clarity, so whole, before. How very interesting! There, in full 3D, floated his and Geordi's child. He experienced something akin to pride, elation…contentment. Maybe he did feel something? Or was it a comparable cognitive process? Or perhaps it was a -

The melon kicked at his storage unit, snapping him out of his thoughts. He did feel that kick.

His captors were staring in disbelief at the 3D model. If they had chins they would be at floor level right now. Data gathered this was not what they had expected at all.

Their leader stepped forward, a tendon extended, presumably to try to touch him again. He backed up, but there was no room in the scanner tube to avoid the touch. He watched helplessly as the leader put his tendon on the melon and stroked it in apparent fascination. There was another kick against his storage unit. The pritide uttered a string of words to his underlings.

—

The scientist was very satisfied with his unexpected catch. This artificial human was apparently in the process of reproducing itself with a real human. How this had come to pass was a great and exciting mystery. They could learn a lot from this thing.

The plan had been to scan it, then connect it and download its programming, then take apart its main processor to study it carefully. But from what he knew of humans he suspected the budding humanoid would suffer if its host was dismantled. Better to keep it until it had its offspring, and then they would have two artificial humans to study. Maybe they could sell one of them, either to some discerning highest bidder or perhaps back to Starfleet.

He had chained it to a wall in cargo, surrounded by a force field just to be sure. It would be most interesting to see when it was going to have its offspring, and how. He wondered if it would need food or water.

—

It's midday on the planet when Geordi returns, both suns are visible through a slight haze in the sky and the ground is damp from a recent rainfall.

He doesn't know what to expect. A dead Lore, a fully recovered Lore...He finds the cave empty. So, a missing Lore then. There are new fluid spills on the ground, and there is a trail in the grass leading towards the river. Looks like the android went for a crawl.

He spots something gleaming white-gold on the river bank: Lore basking in the sun, naked as the day he was activated. The clothes he wore this morning have been torn up to rags and lies in a dark messy pile. His bright skin contrasts to the gaping hole in his side and black crushed eye socket.

Geordi walks on soft grass down the slope towards the river. He considers shouting out or give a cough so that the android will hear him approaching, but before he gets to it Lore lifts his head; surprisingly, his face brightens. "La Forge. The hero returns!".

It's slightly unnerving: he is still several tens of meters away; he has no idea exactly when or how Lore registered his approach. Being blind is apparently not as huge a deal for an android as for a human. He feels a small sting of envy.

"I brought the equipment. Just so you know, I have a phaser aiming at you."

Lore sniffs the air, cracks an eerie smile. "Good lad. I'm ready when you are."

Geordi gets as close as he dares, which is not very close at all. He carefully lays down a piece of cloth to arrange the tools on. A river bank is perhaps not the most ideal place to perform advanced positronic repairs, considering cleanliness and hygiene and possible grains of sand getting into delicate positronic structures, but hey, it's not his body. He unpacks his gear one handed, his phaser firmly aimed at the basking android.

Lore sparkles golden in the sun, and he is indeed very naked. Geordi curses himself that he didn't think about bringing clothes from the ship. He really doesn't want to see more of the vile android than absolutely needed.

As if he has read his mind and is determined to be as annoying as possible, Lore moves so that his legs is spread in a manner that leaves nothing to the imagination. It's quite obvious that Lore is also anatomically correct. Geordi can't help taking a quick glance. The brothers were apparently identically constructed, down to the finest of details. Soong must have some ego on him. An ego as big as, well, as other things.

Geordi quickly looks away, focuses hard on laying the tools in neat rows instead: diamond drills to the right, drivers to the left. When he's done he gets up and backs away from the display.

"Okay, ready? I put the stuff on the ground for you. Just follow my voice and you'll find them."

The android drags himself over to the tool buffet, selects a small scalpel and begins cutting away shards of bioplast around the chest wound. Good, chest first. That way Lore will stay blind - less dangerous - a bit longer.

He presses his thumb against the press pad, feels it heating up in response. His orbiting backup has received his fingerprint and his pulse.

He goes back to watching Lore. Geordi is well-used to having the advantage of being able to study people without them knowing about it. In this case he has the luxury of looking straight at his blind subject without even having to fake reading a PADD or looking out a window.

It's mesmerising to see how deftly Lore is repairing himself, one-handed and with no visual input at a pace almost too fast for him to follow. He tears through nests of wires and damaged q-bits while humming some old diddy, mouth in a tense half-grin, fingers a blur. _"I wonder if one day, you say that, you care, if you say you love me madly, I'll gladly, be there..."_

Data hasn't told him much about his brother, he doesn't remember anything about his early days on Omicron. He has only mentioned that he, Data, was inferiorly constructed and that his brother is the perfect example, so perfect that the others grew envious of him and he had to be disassembled. Geordi doesn't believe that for a second. To him, Lore does seem to be a perfect copy of a human, but an egoistic, ruthless one. Very human, but very far from perfect.

How ugly he is, Geordi thinks. That cruel twisted mouth, the flaring nostrils. How could they ever mistake him for Data.

Sweet, innocent Data. His thoughts keep straying to his partner. That could be Data's blue wire that Lore is re-routing now. Imagine that his honeycakes also contains all these things. He can't help but admire the aesthetics of the inner workings, and wonders if it was Soong's intention to make the inside so beautiful. He smiles at himself, finding even Data's insides appealing. Well, they are. The sunlight catches the heads of the copper connectors, gleams off gold supra leaders and silver joints, gilding drops of yellow fluid.

It also illuminates Lore's crushed brow and empty eye socket. No, not completely empty. The sun's rays informs him about ends of broken q-bits sticking out from the back, coated with dried brown crust. He feels a bit queasy. That's what Data would look like if damaged. Maybe he looks like that at this very moment.

He can't have that cavity staring eerily at him any longer. "Can you… can you put something over your head? Just cover up your eyes."

"Hmm? No. You were curious, remember. So look at this flesh. The man made flesh!"

Lore laughs mirthlessly, closes the chest wound neatly with the bio-plast regenerator. He picks up a small diamond drill and bends his arm around his body, getting to work on whatever the problem is in the back, grunting when there's not enough space between his back and the ground.

"So, Data has gone missing then?"

"Yes." He figures there's no harm in letting Lore know the details. "He was transported away by an unknown ship two days ago from our cargo bay, together with the cargo. Last reading QB S-303. My theory is they have jumped through timespace tunnels."

"Huh. What was the cargo?" Lore stretches his arm to its limit to reach whatever he is reaching for in his back. Bits of soil and grass start flying.

"Q-bits and raw material for making more q-bits." He watches the sparkling synthoskin stretching over straining muscle-like fibers. "Shouldn't you roll over? That looks unnecessary complicated."

"I told you meat-bag, you're not getting near my off-switch."

"Look, I have a phaser. If I wanted to I'd shoot you a couple of times and then hit your switch all I want,"

Lore looks unimpressed. He digs even further into himself, twisting and stretching.

Geordi vinces when grit and grimy soil is very probably being scooped into the hi-tech android body. "Stop! Just roll over. I won't touch your off-switch, I promise"

"No!"

Geordi sighs. Okay then, start a damn garden in your torso, I don't give a crap. Just be done already. He looks away demonstratively, at his Starfleet bag. He forgot to bring something to eat. It'd be nice to have a snack right about now.

"Fuck me and call me Sally."

His head snaps back to Lore. "What?"

The android looks discouraged. "I need two hands to fix my legs."

Fuck. "Sorry, no. I've given you the tools. Fix the things you can fix, and maybe I help you with your legs after I get the device."

"I'll need them to get the device." Lore looks for all the world like a sulking three year old.

Geordi takes a deep breath.

"Well I'm not getting near you."

"Well I don't want you to."

The birds chirp in the trees. The haze in the air is clearing. It looks like it's going to be a beautiful sunset later tonight. Chances are they both will still be here at that point.

"Isn't this something." Lore says. "You better go and look for my other arm."

Geordi decides to risk it.

"Look, we don't have time for this. Turn over. Keep your hand over the switch. That way you know I can't get to it, and I know as long as you have the hand there you won't grab me and try to steal my ship, or do some other nasty things."

Lore mutters and makes a sour face, but eventually sense seems to catch up with him. He flings the diamond drill he has been using in Geordi's general direction and rolls over on his stomach; right hand clamped down over his vulnerable spot.

"It's the lower back panel. In the center: the leg nerve connectors are caught between two vertebrates. Hold the connectors to the side and drill through the bone."

Geordi picks up the drill and moves closer. Of course it has to be the lower back panel, one of the places he have mapped out to try next time in bed with Data. As if this situation could get any more unpleasant.

He crouches down next to Lore and puts down his phaser within easy reach. This is way too close for comfort, for both of them. He can see how tense the android's back is.

"Get on with it, human." Lore actually sounds a bit nervous.

He stares at Lore's hand covering the off switch. The idea creeps into his head, uninvited. As a member of Starfleet it would be his duty to take dangerous elements out of action. He could do that right now, stab the drill right through the android's hand, between the delicate bones, then press the switch when Lore would draw his hand back in instinctual surprise. He could do it. Starfleet would approve.

Empowered, he changes his grip on the drill, his hand cold and clammy. He puts on a determined face and leans forward.

He lets his hand pass over Lore's, almost touching it, then he carefully feels around for the panel edge and folds away its cover.

The spine lies bared, like a treasure. He resists the impulse to reach out and run his hand over the skeletal structure, over the myriad of wires sending light-fast data through the android body. What a marvellous piece of engineering!

Careful not to touch the skin around the opening, or any other surface that could potentially set Lore in some strange mood, he gets to work on the problematic vertebrae. It's hard work, the poly-alloy strong and unyielding and the delicate leg connector cables lying trapped just underneath. Sweat runs down his face. He can hear Lore sniffing the air, for what he doesn't know.

A fly is buzzing around and inside Lore's crushed eye socket.

"You know, that is seriously distracting. Can I cover that now, please?"

A moment's silence. "There's the magic word. Knock yourself out, human. Pick something mauve, I've been told it goes with my complexion."

Geordi hurries to take advantage of the sudden change in Lore's mercurial mood. He scrambles over to the pile of rags that used to be Lore's clothes and picks out a suitable one. The android keeps still as Geordi wraps a piece of pant leg (not mauve but black) around his head. It covers both eyes and some of the exposed cranial circuitry. He ties it carefully in the back, not too hard to annoy the cranky android.

Lore lowers his head to the ground again. "If I find out that is floral I will pull out your spine through your mouth."

Geordi has to stifle a nervous giggle. He is so tense he almost finds that funny. "No flowers, I promise."


	8. The scorpion and the frog

The suns have moved close to the ragged line of the horizon as Lore's legs kick into action again. Drilling through a thin piece of poly-alloy bone has taken way longer that Geordi had expected, and avoiding putting his hands anywhere on the android's back, or touching the panel flap, hasn't exactly made the procedure faster. But now the tiny cables are free, tucked safely back inside the spinal channel. Geordi has mended the smashed vertebrae with setting putty, feeling a bit guilty for putting sub-standard material into Soong's amazing creation.

The last hours has provided him with more information about Soong-type android spines than he could ever hope to know. Lore has been surprisingly forthcoming, answering his questions about data speeds and routes patiently, albeit in a clipped tone. Geordi has been concentrating so hard he has almost forgotten his vulnerable position, hovering less than a hand's breadth over the golden back.

As he files down the last raw edge of the putty joint the android beneath him hums a tune, a different one than earlier. The spine vibrates ever so slightly in rhythm with the voice box. Lore's legs are twitching impatiently, ready to move.

"There. That should be it." Geordi contentedly closes the panel and puts his regenerator back in his tool belt, next to the neuro charger. All in a day's work.

Lore energetically wiggles his legs. "Like new! Good job La Forge!"

"Glad it worked, eventually."

He wipes his hands clean on a rag and turns to put the drills and pliers down next to the other tools.

There is no time to react as a flash of bright gold whips out. His breath is caught half-way out of his lungs by a steel vice clamping down around his neck. Lore has lashed out with his good arm and caught him as easily as he would smash a bug.

"Grblg!" he gurgles in protest, clawing at the solid arm, trying to get his throat free. Even a blind and one-armed Lore has made an easy prey of him! What was he thinking, putting down the phaser, getting too damn close. His pulse booms in his ears. _What the hell is he doing?_ He grits his teeth, fuming with anger.

By some grace from providence he remembers Lore's own phaser still sits in his belt.

As his vision begins to blur he manages to get the second phaser out and up against the android's temple, pressing it into the synthoskin with all the strength he can muster to get the message across.

The death-squeeze loosens. He tries to claw his way out of the half-embrace as sweet air rushes in to fill his lungs. Then Lore flips his arm and easily throws him like a child's ragdoll down onto the grass.

He lands in a disorderly heap, makes an attempt to find his legs but his adversary is already over him. Lore easily holds him down, his smiling face hovering a fraction above his own. "How can you live with such a weak neck, Baggy? It's so fragile. YOU are so fragile."

Geordi coughs and tries to speak, tries to get up, but his throat is not quite yet up to the task and Lore is too strong and heavy. The phaser is still in his hand, thank Providence. He manages to get the weapon in between him and the crazed android. "Hhrgbn!"

"Pardon, I didn't catch that?" Lore sniffs the skin just below Geordi's jaw, clearly delighted. "Humans smell disgusting when they're scared. All sweat and adrenaline. Sometimes they smell like shit too."

"Get away from me!" He puts the phaser to Lore's head again, pressing hard so the android won't miss that the weapon is back.

His attacker cocks his head as if in thought but then finally backs off, giving Geordi space to get up from the ground.

"What the fuck was that?!" Geordi touches his neck to see if everything still is in place. Everything seems to be, if a little sore and probably bruised. He crawls to his feet, shaky and confused. On a scale from murder attempt to intense hug he has only a faint idea where to place what just happened. "That was way too hard!"

Lore has crouched down some five meters away over by the tools, calm and unperturbed, still wearing a faint eerie smile. He's facing Geordi, seemingly focused on studying his every move. It feels like the android is staring at him directly from behind his blindfold.

"Aw, such a child." A sniff in the air. "At least you didn't shit yourself."

"Gods, what is wrong with you?!" Geordi fumes. "I'm not going to continue helping you if you do things like this!" He angrily rubs his sore neck, entertaining thoughts about Lore, phasers and handing him over to Federation Court. "If I'm going to fix you, do I really need to have one hand occupied by a phaser all the time, just in case you decide to attack me? How efficient do you think that will be?"

While Geordi has been talking, his company has gradually lost interest and has begun toying with a micro plier, throwing it in the air and catching it on the way down. "I promise you La Forge, you don't need your weapon." Lore purrs, voice suddenly sweet and mellow. He stabs the plier into the ground and picks up the wrench. "It was too hard, I get it. I'll behave."

Geordi is relieved he is not the sole focus of attention anymore, but the new soft tone of voice is making him uneasy. "Okay. Good. Well...don't do it again." Yeah, that'll show him.

The android has picked out a small selection of tools and laid them out in an absolute straight line. "Now - lets try with the eye! You have to place something behind it at the correct angle, and then I can push it out...this chisel will do the trick."

Geordi hesitates. His instinct tell him now would be a good time to retreat and get some rest, think things over. He is really not up for any more Data's-crazy-brother quality time. What just happened makes it painfully obvious that he's not as much in control as he thought, and that perhaps, maybe, he has completely misjudged the situation.

"Actually. I need some time for myself. A break."

"Oh. What about Data?"

"Look, I need a break. I'll come back."

"There's no time. You gotta save Data, right? And I still need my remaining eye fixed. You have at least another two hours in you."

No, he has no two hours in him. He needs to lie down. Lie down with a burger and fries. His stomach growls; he forgot to eat and it's already late.

"I gotta get back to the ship. I need to get some food and some rest."

"_Food?_" Lore seems to take this idea as a personal affront.

"Yes, food. Hot food?" Geordi sighs. "You're familiar with the concept?"

Lore's head twitches, in exactly the same way as Data's. "Well…there's food here!"

"I don't see any. Unless you count the wildlife, but I didn't bring any hunting gear or a desire to spend a number of hours to cook -"

He doesn't get to finish his sentence before his audience of one sprints off and makes a graceful dive into the river.

"Uhm…" Geordi manages. Right, and off he went, for no apparent reason. This would probably be a good time to sneak off to his ship and let the android have his bath time. Still, he is curious. Surely Lore isn't trying to catch something edible for him to eat? He remembers Data promptly sinking to the bottom when he tried to swim on their trip to Lake Devala. Looks like clams and seaweed will be on the menu tonight, if that is indeed what Lore is doing. His curiosity takes the better of his intuition. He decides to stay and see what happens, resting and burgers be damned.

The press padd heats up questioningly, and he puts his finger over it to give a signal to the team circling above. _I'm still okay._ Well, he's in one piece at least. The pain in his neck has died down to a dull throb. He wonders if there will be bruises.

It's peaceful and quiet, now when his dominating company is gone. The hazy mist has returned, making everything looking like it was painted in watercolour. He looks at the surface of the moving water, but there's nothing to hint that there's a naked golden humanoid on the prowl under its surface. The water is beautiful in the light of the setting suns, now blue, now orange as the light catches it, moving in a thousand faceted waves.

He walks to the edge of the river and looks into the water. There are bunches of deep-green seaweed waving with the stream; small shrimp-like creatures are hanging on to the leaves. As a child in Mogadishu he loved to play in the stream behind his family's house, looking for crabs and sea snails. He hit jackpot every time he spotted a small piece of glass, old fragile real glass, hundreds of years old. Imagine that, people putting glass in the stream. He had been certain it was placed there for him to find, to bring him luck. His mother has said that if he found luck that easily, he would have a happy life to look forward to.

He is woken from his reverie by a sloshing sound. Lore is walking towards him on the river bank, hair back-slicked and eye-rag askew, two flatfishes dangling from his hand. The suns are behind him, making his outline shine and sparkle. Water is running down his smooth body and down the side of his legs in little gleaming rivulets. Geordi has to admit to himself it's a beautiful sight. He wishes so much it was Data coming towards to him that his heart lurches and aches.

Strangely enough his groin aches too, and his dick twitches with interest. He wills it to go away. It must be signals from his reptilian brain reacting to how much Data's older brother looks like Data.

"Food." Lore throws the fishes down in front of him. They are already gutted, their bellies ripped open. "Fish is on the menu. I can't catch anything else quickly without my sight." He waits a beat, his body stance expectant. "Why aren't you eating? Ah, right, hot food."

He straightens and sets off again, into the woods this time. The situation is getting more and more surreal by the minute. Is Data's homicidal deranged brother going to make him dinner?

Apparently he is, because in like three heartbeats he is already out of the woods again, carrying deadwood, mushrooms and something writhing and spool-shaped that Geordi can't identify. He has to admire the efficiency of whatever combination of senses Lore just used to find materials for a bonfire, and find them so quickly. He himself would still be stumbling around in the woods at this point, looking for his first dry twig.

"That's a slug." Lore says before Geordi gets the question out, nodding at the spool-shaped thing as he arranges the rest of the material into an optimal bonfire construction. "You're not interested in its local name. It excretes slime that is a efficient firestarter when combined with the spores from this mushroom. The locals have stories about this slug being a fire god, bringing the fire to earth from the sky. Presumably one caught fire at some point when struck by lightning."

He crumbles the mushroom onto the slug. "Give me the wrench."

Geordi hands the tool over, watches as Lore hits it with pebbles from the river and striking a spark with the third stone he tries. The slug/spore combo instantly burst into a ball of fire, the spool shape desperately twisting and curling in around itself. Lore pokes the fire-ball into the middle of the bonfire pile.

The android seems to have calmed down to an almost pensive state, a far cry from how he allegedly acted in Cargo Room Three when he shot Beverly in the shoulder and almost managed to torch Wesley. He sits facing the fire, presenting that familiar long-nosed profile to Geordi as he aimlessly pokes the burning wood with the wrench.

How did he know that about the slug? Soong-type androids apparently come pre-programmed with a lot of knowledge in different areas. Impressive.

Geordi watches as Lore pulls the wet rag from his head and puts it on a stick, placing it like a drooping black flag over the fire. To dry, or more likely to burn. His empty eye-socket and crushed brow-bone still looks awful, but less so in fire light that they did in the sunshine.

Geordi can't help himself, he's too curious: "How come you know stuff about obscure slugs? And their role as fire-gods?"

"It's in my name. I have all human lore tanked into my memory. All the stories, myths, songs, legends Doctor Soong could get his mitts on. It would make me 'more human'. I was supposed to be a beacon of mythical knowledge, the pinnacle of the human mind." Lore snorts. "Unfortunately for Soong that didn't pan out too well."

"Oh. I had no idea." Geordi doesn't know why he should have has any idea in the first place. It is just somewhat unexpected to learn that the murderous artefact sitting before him was destined to be a keeper of human memories.

They sit in silence, the fire crackles as Lore pokes it occasionally with the wrench. Geordi finds two long sticks that will work as skewers for the fish; he sharpens them into points with a medical scalpel. He hasn't prepared food outdoors since he was a little boy and went fishing with his father, a long time ago on Earth. Funny, he had almost forgotten about their fishing trips. He wonders if their favourite secret spots are still visited by someone else today.

This fish looks good enough to eat raw, plump and with an interesting pattern of pink dots on its skin. The sharpened stick slides through its flesh easily. He puts the two skewers upright into the ground, to wait for the fire to burn down to embers.

He looks into the flames, heat flickers across his face and contrasts the evening chill. "In Mogadishu there were old tales about an ancient feast, where a young man dressed in white calf skin, face painted white..."

"The Eebe feast." Lore says automatically. "Held once a year to ensure that the cosmic bull kept his gaze fixed on the cosmic cow. Our universe rests between his horns, and if his love for her wanes and he averts his gaze the ground will shake. The lesson is, don't avert your eyes from your love."

The night suddenly seems colder as a pang of sorrow runs through Geordi. He failed to protect his partner. For a second he wishes he was not in Starfleet, that he and Data had resigned and settled down on a peaceful planet somewhere where they could raise the melon, go fishing... Then Data wouldn't be missing in the line of duty right now.

The fire has died down to embers. Geordi places the fish skewers just above the orange coals, arranging them into position with round water polished stones from the riverbed.

Lore feels around for the now dry eye-rag, and to Geordi's surprise puts it around his head again, pulling it back down over his empty eyes.

"To come back to your question about the slug: for good measure Often-fucking-Wrong also crammed about 300 qg of non-human myths into my brain." Lore says, adjusting his blindfold. "Myths about slugs."

Geordi doesn't know who Often-fucking-Wrong is, but he can guess.

"I could of course get rid of it all if I wanted to, but call me sentimental."

No, Geordi thinks, 'sentimental' is not on the list of what I would call you.

The smell of fish frying is making his mouth water. He picks up the stick with smaller of the two fishes, blows on its side to cool it, then takes a cautious bite. It tastes heavenly, the fish meat light pink and succulent. For the next moments he applies himself to the rewarding task of eating.

Lore sighs and looks bored as Geordi throws away the bones and reaches for the next one.

"How do you even stand that chewing. Munch, munch, munch. Putting decaying mulch into your food sack."

Should he dare answering that like he would a normal person? Geordi checks that his phaser is in his belt and decides to risk it.

"At least I know what it tastes like." he says, making an effort to keep his tone light and unchallenging.

It doesn't go down too badly. "I also know what it tastes like. Give me a bit." Lore reaches out, palm open. After some hesitation Geordi puts a fin in the android's hand.

"Oh, fin. Thanks La Forge, the best bit." Lore chews the fin carefully, then spits it out. "Apatite, fatty acids, phosphor… That's what it tastes like."

"Yeah but," Geordi tries, "that's just the components. You can't enjoy it."

"There is no point, I don't eat. But try and wrap your human-centric view of things around this: maybe I do enjoy it even though I can't describe it as 'fatty' or 'marine' or some other vague terms you would use; maybe I like it because I prefer a certain combination of elements"

Geordi thoughtfully chews his fish (fatty, marine, also tastes a bit of mussels). To a Soong android, can a fish taste good? Or can visual input be described as beautiful? He knows Data does prefer things over other things: cats before dogs, violin before cello, lying in bed with underwear on before being naked. And when Geordi had asked, he had admitted many of the motives for his paintings were chosen mostly because of their visual appearance. He thinks, yes, probably they can find beauty.

He glances over to his company. Lore sits perfectly still. 'Lost in thought' would be a human interpretation, a more fitting one would probably be 'running system checks'.

He has so many questions he want to ask. Like 'Do you have any memories of Data when he was newly created? Did you ever know each other? Have you learned to feel other things than pressure when someone touches you? but he doesn't dare.

Instead he blurts out: "Did you ever go fishing with Doctor Soong?"

Lore laughs, short and sharp. "Did I ever go fishing with Doctor Soong? I think you're labouring under some misconceptions." He throws a stone into the embers, making sparks and smoke rise against the dark sky. "My humourless brother did pick a funny guy to spread his legs for."

"Um. I think you are labouring under misconceptions. We're together. Data is capable of forming relationsh-"

"I know what my brother is capable of." Lore sets his jaw and throws another stone, a bit harder this time.

Yeah it must annoy you, Geordi thinks. Your own little brother socialising with lowly human beings, forming relationships. It must be tough for you who despises them with such passion.

Something tense has has happened to the android's shoulders. "Mind you, I can absolutely see the attraction from your side of the fence. Soong did equip him with everything a human plaything should know, and a bit extra on the side."

Geordi's hand goes to his phaser. The mood change is tangible.

"He and I would make a great team. He can give people orgasms that are out of this world and I can recite Snow White and the Seven Dwarves." As Lore turns his face away from the bonfire and towards Geordi, something in his posture makes chills run down Geordi's spine. "Well, I can do both things. But I had to learn the former from practise."

The android's mouth twists into a disgusted snarl. "I noticed you were looking at me down by the river today. I could smell your interest."

"Don't flatter yourself." Geordi steels himself, tries hard to look unaffected. He remembers the advice he got from his mother when they teased him at school: "Don't show them you're scared. Be in control and they'll stop" but despite his best intentions he can still feel his face flushing. He begins to unsheathe his weapon.

It's more his sixth sense rather than his eyes that informs him Lore has lunged at him. _Shit, here he comes._ Geordi is not nearly fast enough to pull his phaser out, even with his head start. His brain barely manages to process the thought before Lore is upon him, toppling him over and rolling together for several meters towards the edge of the woods. He ends up sprawled against a tree, arms pinned above his head in one smooth move, clamped to the tree trunk as if cemented in place.

"Lore! Stop it!"

" _'Stop it.'_ I'm not yours to command, _human_." Lore snarls, white teeth bared. Colour flashes of reds and purples covers Geordi's field of vision like fireworks.

"What do you think your precious Data would say if I opened you up real wide, giving you something to remember me by?" The words are hissed into his ear, warm breath tickling his skin. "It would always be me you'd see when you and the retard would try to get it on. I could hurt you so bad you would be sick just having Data in the same room. Cramping up in fear from just hearing his voice." Lore's voice suddenly changes, to something softer, more articulated: "You do not think I could?" Geordi's blood runs cold: it's Data's voice, perfectly mimicked.

Bile is rising in his throat, his wrists are hurting in the iron grip. The android is running his teeth along Geordi's jugular, his breath chilling the sweat that has broken out all over his body. Geordi's own breath is rabbit-quick, his heart racing.

"S-sure you could." Geordi manages, tries to hold his voice steady. In contrast to the pain in his wrists he feels a soft, warm tongue sweetly lapping behind his ear. He groans, tries to squirm away. Then Lore lets his arms go to move his one hand downwards, keeping him pinned to the tree with his stump. Geordi tries instinctively to push the android away from him but it's like pushing against a stone wall.

Lore's hand is gliding over his chest, his flank. The inside of his thigh is stroked, then the hand moves to his crotch. Deft fingers seek out just the right places to fondle and it's like he's not wearing any pants at all. He starts to swell, involuntary. Teeth are gracing his ear lobe, then biting down, a promise of what could be reality in a few seconds. Something hard is pressing against his thigh. No no no.

"See" Lore laughs in his ear while fondling him through the fabric, caressing his rapidly hardening cock. "I knew you liked me. You get off on syntho-skin. And would you know, I like human skin. What a match!"

Geordi fights his instincts to kick out at his attacker, to twist, to scream. Some dormant close combat training course from the Academy kicks in and he manages to keep his thoughts together, long enough to get a hand around Lore's back. He quickly slides it downwards, and there, there's the indentation, the off-switch just to the -

"Nuh-uh!" Lore says. He has already caught Geordi's hand with his own, and the grip is crushing. Geordi cries out in pain. He thinks he can feel the bones in his wrist grind together. Lore twists his body away from Geordi's other hand. "Naughty flesh-bag! Don't think I didn't see that coming. I got to fix that switch - "

Geordi stabs his activated neuro charger in Lore's upper arm, right into the bicep.

There is a rain of white sparks, and a fizzling sound as Lore spasms, pressing Geordi into the tree. He can feel the android's body twitching, flush against his, against his as neuro currents run through it, assaulting the neural net. A low keening sound fills his ears.

"I said STOP! Get off! Bloody lunatic!" He attempts to get to the switch again but now there's a hand covering it.

"Wow! Now that is something!" Lore gets up and pull the charger from his arm. Grey smoke is rising from the point of impact. "I want to try it again!"

The ground seems to be swaying, but Geordi manages to find his unsteady legs and make good use of the tree trunk to get into standing position. His uniform is crumpled and torn at the shoulder, and one of his wrists looks red and swollen.

""You… are insane! Bloody lunatic! I am through helping you!"

He grabs the phaser in desperation, walks a few steps after the android and aims it at his head. Lore is only two meters away; it would be a clean shot.

"Tell me where I can find the device or I will shoot you right now! "

"Relax La Forge. Damn, you're acting like I just tried to rape you."

Lore laughs, seemingly giddy with the currents still coursing through his body after the neuro hit. His penis hangs innocent and limp against his thigh. Geordi feels to his shame his own tumescence hasn't quite gone away yet. Gods, what is wrong with him?

He grips his weapon harder, hand shaking. "Tell me where it is!"

Contradicting his ragged outward appearance, Lore's posture belongs to someone without a care in the world. "Easy there tiger. I can tell you haven't tried to fire a phaser down here." He smiles his vulpine, fake smile. "Maybe you've noticed the mist? The atmosphere is cancelling the trigger function, making any beamer weapons useless. But maybe you can beat me to death with it. It you dare to get close enough, that is."

Geordi stares at him in disbelief. He aims at the tree, presses the trigger. Nothing happens. The phasers have been worthless the whole time, and Lore has known all along. Well, that is just...he doesn't even know what that is. As the adrenaline is wearing off fatigue rushes over him; he is so tired he could fall over on the spot.

Not knowing what else to do, Geordi start to collect the tools while Lore ignores him. The android has found the on-button and has just zapped himself again with the charger, moaning happily.

Exasperated, he turns to leave. "I'm going to my craft, and I'm going back to the Enterprise to find Data! Good luck with your eyes, maybe you can kidnap some bypasser and force them to be your guide dog." He walks resolutely away from the river toward his craft, leaving Lore and his new toy behind him.

—

The first thing Geordi does after take off is to set a course for the Enterprise. The second is to have a furious wank while picturing smashing Lore's face to bits.

—

There are no news about Data's whereabouts when he gets back. He learns that there is a Starfleet patrol out in S303, probably doing a half-assed job of investigating. The Enterprise will continue on its charted course in the opposite direction.

People at the docking bay lower their heads and mumble sympathetic words as he walks past. People he doesn't know, but apparently they know his face and his situation.

He meets Troi in the corridor, her eyes immediately grow wide with surprise and compassion. "Geordi, how are you doing? How did it go? Oh, you are hurting!"

He says something about repairs and being tired and excuses himself. It's better not to tell anyone what has transpired between him and Lore. _First he tried to kill me, then he fixed me dinner, then he tried to rape me._

He can just picture Picard's face if that would be his report. _Are you sure you have those events in the correct order, Mr La Forge?_

If he would tell them, he is certain he would not be allowed back. But he is going back, and he's going to get the device.

_Because if he did try to kill me, I'd be dead._


	9. Chapter 9

The neuro charger finished up its power cells a while ago, and Lore has begun to feel the first pangs of boredom. Though not yet bored enough to do something about his undignified, sprawled-out position, lying prone under a big fern. It's nice just lying here, savouring the remainder of neuro-electricity as it's coursing irrational and sharp through his net, making his loud, active brain slow down to a pleasant buzz. Maybe he can hot-wire the charger to himself to get more hits out of it. If he can find it again. How stupid to throw it all to hell in frustration. At least he has a general idea of where it landed, somewhere over by the tree smelling of La Forge.

He has just made up his mind to go and look for the charger when his audio center wants his attention. The outer membranes have picked up a faint engine sound approaching at 22,4 smh and slowing down; a small space craft is breaking through the atmosphere. Tree tops creak and break as it goes in for a landing not too far away. Perfect, then he can catch its crew and force them to take him to a work shop to get the eye fixed.

An audio input pattern repeats, triggering a sense of recognition. The air craft sounds exactly the same as the one Data's favourite human arrived in. He sniffs the air. There is fresh La Forge scent carried down with the wind. Turning to face the wind directly, he lifts his head. Freshly sonic-showered human, ate bacon this morning, wearing the tool belt, a bit nervous, and he's alone. Hah, imagine that! La Forge, coming back for more.

34 artificial heart beats later, the membranes pick up steps approaching in the grass. The smell of human is strong; La Forge is indeed alone, and carrying something heavy on his right side. The tool kit?

"Lore."

"You're brave." His mouth twists into an almost-smile.

"Not really. More like desperate."

Stubborn and illogical. And persistent, he has to give him that.

The tendons in La Forge's fragile neck creaks when he moves his head to look around. The creaking stops and the sounds of breathing settles in his general direction. La Forge is looking at him. "Had fun with the charger?"

"It kicked like a cockswell." He grins, feeling cheery. "I wore the thing out. So, wanna give my eye a go then?"

"If you put these on." A couple of clothes-items lands with a ploof on his belly. He knows they will fit him perfectly, freshly replicated as they are to his brother's exact measurements. Knowing Starfleet, it goes without saying that they are probably mustard yellow.

He gets up from the ground and unfolds them. La Forge has turned his head away. How chivalresque. "It's a standard off-duty set. It should fit you."

There is a pair of pants and some sort of short bathrobe-thing. He puts it on. Maybe he should pretend to be unable to fasten the pants one-handed, needing help with the fastening so he can get La Forge close to his crotch and make him smell all aroused and flushed again. That'd be fun. Sadly the pants has already automatically shaped themselves to his waist.

"Ah. Fancy."

"I'm getting that device." The human is closing in, drops a bag, the same one as last time, at his feet. "Sit."

Lore makes as if to sit down, but instead he reaches out to touch the human's chest, feather light and so fast that the slow creature can't even register it. La Forge is not wearing the communicating device he had on yesterday. That means he can't signal any presumed backup ship. He quickly runs his hand over the many places the human could conceivably put such a padd, but there is no hidden communicator of any kind.

"Hey! What are you doing!" La Forge emits a sharp stress smell and takes a hasty step back, pointlessly raising his arms for protection.

"You truly are desperate aren't you, poor thing. Disobeying your captain's orders, endangering your life for the faint hope that I will be in a better mood when you let it slip that you didn't bring your Starfleet army. You're not getting any extra points."

The human is silent for two heartbeats. "Okay, how did you even know about that?"

"I have ears for the silent, and know what the dumb man meaneth." Lore says with a laugh. "Or you could say I felt it while we shared quality time yesterday. Plus it's typically Starfleet to have a useless backup team in orbit on 'dangerous missions'."

"Yeah…it was worth a try." An almost inaudible sigh escapes the human. "But I do think that the less Starfleet people around, the less likely you are to harm me."

Now that's a stupid thought. Lore feels like breaking his neck on the spot just to prove him wrong.

—

Data doesn't know how many milliseconds he has been gone, not exactly. His logs can only give a rounded off figure down to the 5th decimal. This is a most worrying sign. The calculations in his q-processors are slow and sluggish, and are deteriorating at a steady pace.

Before his condition got to its present unsatisfactory state he managed to learn some of the language of his captors. He spends his time singing forth words like 'danger', 'food', help'. Nobody has been down here for days (for how many milliseconds?) but surely they must have some sort of surveillance activated, a guard system? He can only assume he must have some value to them since they so carefully examined him and now keeps him with water and human food, tethered to the wall in their cargo bay.

He continues to hum sentences in the pritidian frequency, in the hope that someone will hear him. Either he must get his captors to understand that they need to bring him other sustenance than the pile of grains they have provided him so far, or they must free his hands so that he can remove the melon from his person. Either way will stop the breaking down of his brain, but the first option is definitely the most preferred.

The melon kicks. The swelling half-sphere under his loose uniform has been very active lately. He has noted that it kicks more when he has his vocal function activated.

His facial muscles forms his lips into a smile without him giving it a conscious thought. The 'human female pregnant'-subroutines are working as they should, simulating a sense of belonging and familiarity.

Another, harder, kick, and this time he thinks he can make out a tiny foot under the surface of the sphere.

He does not want to detach it, but only keep it close and protect it (again the Pregnancy subroutine). But as the situation is, the melon is slowly but surely taking what it needs from him, removing metals from his body in tiny amounts. Soon he will not be able to function properly. Detaching it would mean putting it on hiatus, but they have not planned on it being in hiatus for very long. The melon was never supposed to leave the safe environment of the ship or the proximity of its family, and the ability for it to go dormant was only implemented so that they would be able to change its tray or show it to their friends. He isn't really sure how it would react to being without nourishment and energy for more than an hour. Most likely it would just stay dormant. But perhaps it would not go well. He considers what Geordi's reaction would be if it would go badly, but the thought is not appealing so he decides to focusing on going through his options again.

He pulls at his restraints; his arms are firmly cuffed behind his back. There is the third option: break the restraints and risk the electric shock. But there are too many unknown parameters in that scenario. No, he must get sustenance, and he must talk to his captors in their own language. Then maybe they will listen to reason and let him go.

He continues to hum sentences at the pritidian ask-frequency. "Help. I need food. Help. Danger."

Someone must hear him soon.

—

All things considered, Geordi thinks he has managed to set up a good work environment. The tools are on a big flat rock just next to him, he himself is sitting on an uprooted tree, and Lore is obediently crouching on the ground in front of him. Geordi's sleeves are rolled up, his VISOR is polished, a protective cloth is covering his lap. He's ready to do some serious surgery.

Lore seems happy enough, the prospect of getting his sight back has noticeably elevated his mood. He hasn't even acknowledged or tried to grope Geordi's groin.

"I was thinking" Lore says, "you could go in through the roof of my mouth. The eyes have their base connectors below the sockets. I tried to reach it with my fingers earlier so there's a hole there already."

"Right." Geordi looks at the white sunken eyeball gleaming at him, blind and discoloured with orange goo. The yucky stuff has filled the bottom of the socket. It has dried into a firm, thick consistency, reminding him of semi-opaque resin or honey with bits of thick lumps in it. A fly has gone into the mess and got stuck, its wings trembling hopelessly in the breeze. He steels himself.

"Wait, I'll dislocate my jaw so you can get in easier." Lore's hand is already at his chin, gripping it firmly.

"No I don't think that will be necessary - oh bloody hell…" As he attempts to remove some of the coagulated goo with a spatula, fresh android fluid suddenly burst forth, squirting in amber-coloured trickles down over Lore's face. By now the smell of the fluid is getting to Geordi's stomach. He wonders how he will ever stand fixing leaks on Data again.

"It's nothing, it does that sometimes. Lots of tear ducts and other flush systems in that area." Lore presses his thumb into the socket. "Pressing on it usually stops it."

"Right. Okay." Geordi takes a cloth and wipes off the orangey stuff from the pale android face. "Okay. So through your mouth? First the chisel, then the pliers if needed. Okay. Here we go."

Lore opens his mouth obediently, the insides pink and indistinguishable from a human's.

He supports the hand holding the chisel on Lore's lower jaw, wincing as teeth dig into his fingers. He guides the chisel upwards through the hole. It feels very strange, rooting around inside someone's cranial cavities with a huge sharp instrument.

He hits something unyielding, with a surface like polished marble. "There. The eye, right?"

"Aah eah. Yuah."

This must be like going to the dentist in the old days, he thinks. Imagine living in those days, what a struggle life must've been. He presses upwards to find the best point to apply pressure to. The chisel misses and slips away from the orb, instead meeting hard duranium.

"Shit."

He tries another angle. The eyeball is impossibly slippy but he thinks he got it now, finding support against the surrounding duranium structure. "Okay, there it is. Now, help me press it forward."

A long-fingered hand joins his on the handle, then the chisel is pushed down hard. Maybe he's imagining it but it looks like the steel part of the tool is actually bending ever so slightly from the pressure.

The eye moves a tiny bit forward in the socket, then stops. Lore's jaws tense up in frustration. Geordi hurries to pull his hand out of reach for a possible android bite. "Wait Lore, let me adjust the angle… okay, go again."

The eyeball jumps back into the socket with the most satisfying 'pop' Geordi has heard all year.

"Hahah! There it is!"

He wipes off some goo from the eye ball. "Um, it's still all white."

"Try grab it with the pliers. Wait, I think I got it."

As he watches in fascination, Lore sticks a finger up through the roof of his mouth. The eye slowly begins to slide around, the yellow pupil becoming more and more visible, like a waxing moon. Lore puts a finger into the corner of his eye and blinks. There is a faint click when the orb slots back into its nest of tendons and wires, muscles immediately adjusting it to focus on Geordi.

"There you are! Just as ugly as I remember you."

"Thank you." Geordi wipes his face and hands clean from the goo. "Now…your chest, legs and eye are all fixed. The device, please."

The android gives him a loop-sided grin and a wink with his working eye. "Have to disappoint you there, human. I lied. There is no device. Now I will take you ship and -"

In the space of a few seconds, Geordi learns many things. For one, he realises that punching a Soong-type droid in the face is mostly going to impact negatively on oneself, and the faint look of surprise on the android doesn't really weigh up the pain in one's fist.

Secondly, bent over with his bleeding fist between his legs, he didn't realise he knew so many ugly words.

"Will you let me finish!" Lore growls above him. "There is no device but I already know where the retard is, because you have told me."

Geordi looks up. "What?"

Lore looks with contempt at the shocked human. "S-303. Q-bits. Transport with great speed. It's the pritides. So as I was saying, I will take your craft, and I will go and get my brother out of any trouble he has unwittingly stumbled into. Family responsibility and all that. Siblings."

And with that he turns and starts walking towards Geordi's ship, picking up the tool box as he goes.

"Wait! You're going to get Data? Is he alive? Who are the pritides?" Geordi wraps up his hand in his uniform sleeve and takes up the chase. "I can't just let you take the ship, it's Starfleet property!"

Lore walks on. "For a tiny human you have a lot of words in you."

"Look, it's a new model, goes up to nine warp." Okay so that got him some attention. The android lets out an impressed whistle.

"Yes, ten. I know how to drive it to nine. You don't. So I'm coming with you." His crew in engineering will not be happy, but he can't give up the ship this easily. Not give Data up this easily.

Lore snorts. "All right then Geordi La Forge. Let's go and rescue my dim-witted sad excuse for a brother."


	10. Chapter 10

"As you all know, our orders are to be at Orion IX in 20 hours." Picard tells his assembled officers. "The Enterprise will continue its current mission. The question is what we shall do in regard to Mr La Forge's disappearance. The search patrol we sent to Aquilae II gave me their report this morning…" He pauses, searching for the right words. What the search patrol had told him had been unexpected. He doesn't know quite what to make of it.

"Where there any surprises, Captain?" Troi asks, reading his mind as usual.

Picard clears his throat. "The patrol encountered the two dead Klingons and the unsalvageable wrecks as reported previously by Mr La Forge. They also found large areas of trampled and flattened grass, logs that had been moved around, spills consisting with those one could expect from a Soong-type android..." He looks down at his PADD to get the facts exactly right. "…the remains of a campfire, remains of a meal consisting of two grilled fish...then three drops of La Forge's blood next to the moved log, and what the team presumed were Lore Soong's discarded clothes, torn up into rags and spread around the scene. There was also a broken neuro charger."

His officers wait a beat for him to continue.

"A campfire..?" Troi says tentatively.

"The ashes were at least 18 hours old. Somehow La Forge failed to mention it in his report."

"He made a camping holiday out of it!" Riker says, astonished. "The man clearly doesn't get enough shore leave."

Picard smiles. Logically he should be equally worried about both of his missing officers, however Data and the melon are weighing the most on his mind. The Starfleet status 'Missing in service' has many nuances to it, but he thinks he knows his Chief Engineer well enough to assume in this case it's _"with Lore, in the ship, and missing"_ as opposed to _"lying dead in a swamp on Aquila II, and missing"_. The presence of a campfire adds weight to this assumption, even if he can't quite picture the scene of Mr La Forge and Data's dangerous brother sitting together in front of a cosy fire. And what had possessed La Forge to bring raw fish to the planet instead of a ready packed meal?

"Captain" Troi says, "I think the fire might be a sign of La Forge trying to reach out to Lore. He has faith that he can come to agreement with him."

Worf growls from the end of the table, arms crossed over his broad chest. "His conviction that the android will help him by staking out the way to Data is wishful thinking! We have every reason to suspect that ...thing... is setting us up somehow!"

Yes, there is that possibility. Luring La Forge along with empty promises and then using him as live bait for Starfleet to come running straight into an ambush would not be beyond Lore.

"Suggestions? Number One?"

"Are we tracking their craft?" Riker says, leaning on one elbow on the polished table. "Surely the new models have all sorts of tracking possibilities? If we get their position we can monitor them and see if Lore leads us to Data."

"The comms have been switched off and the tower connectors stopped. Our comms team are working on filtering out the warp echo. They are optimistic they'll get it sorted in a couple of days."

"We can't wait for that!" Worf barks. "They are both in danger! If Data's brother really has a device to track him down he might try to destroy him instead of rescuing him. He tried to kill Data in the transporter room! My advice is to send a strike team and pick up their track at the scene. Then when we get a trace we'll stealth-mode our way close, beam up La Forge, and then blast the craft to pieces."

Ah, and he has already imagined himself as the leader of this team. Nothing worse for a Klingon than to sit and wait. "If that was to be our plan of action Mr Worf, we would be back on square one regarding Data's whereabouts. Let's double our efforts in getting a trace, and meanwhile we shall continue to Orion."

His security officer lets out a deep growl. "Captain!"

"Your objection is noted, Mr Worf." Picard bites down on his words and his Security Officer shrinks ever so slightly down into his seat.

"I will ask the Starfleet ships in the area to assist us in searching for warp traces. They can't just have vanished into empty space. Any wayward signal from their craft shall be transferred to me at once. In Mr La Forge's absence, Lieutenant Chief O'Brien will be in charge of Engineering and Lt Parsley will lead Systems Engineering. Make it so. Meeting adjourned."

"Parsley?" Riker says. "We're talking about the shy, tall guy, right? That's Barley."

"Well. We all know who we are talking about." Picard harrumphs. Broccoli? No that's not it either. Barracuda?

He gives up and exits the meeting room.

—

—

The scientist had spend many hours researching their strange golden catch. Since there was no information to be found regarding this particular type of android, he had to use data on the human reproduction cycle. It lasted on average 40 weeks, and always ended in a rather messy affair. He had amassed illustrations of the different stages and compared them to the size of the prisoner's external belly pod. The charts indicated that the golden humanoid had about ten more weeks to go until completion.

It was certainly interesting to learn that humans had started to reproduce with their self-made mechanic copies, allowing these machines to carry their mixed bio/mech system offspring. It was a very clever way of improving the human race, one the scientist hadn't expected from the humans. They were normally a superstitious breed with an extremely poor ability to perform consequence analysis.

The scientist looked at the scans of the humanoid. Maybe they shouldn't trade it after all. It would be most interesting to see the larvae-like product it currently hosted bloom into an adult. He was especially curious to learn how its bio/mech brain would develop. And since its parent had accepted its place quietly, making no scenes or having violent outbursts, it wouldn't be a bother to have it around. It had even learned some of their language.

And the truth was, he needed its help. The experiments he had spent the last days performing, using the detailed 3D-model as a basis, had not been successful. His attempts to create a brain similar to the humanoid's had failed miserably. The most annoying bit was that he had no idea as to why it didn't work. It just didn't. There was but one choice: fetch the prisoner.

—

Data was busy pressing the melon against the cargo bay wall when two guards came for him. It was bad timing, since a couple of membranes had just managed to worm their way through the uniform fabric and into the wall. Some of the joints in the metal coating had traces of aluminium, and the melon had kicked twice with excitement when the first membrane had reached its goal. Well, at least he knew where to find it if he was to return here.

The guards had taken on a vaguely humanoid shape, but they still looked very much insect. Like two-meter versions of _Mantis religiosa_ walking upright. They released him from the wall, but not from his electrified manacles. One of them pointed meaningfully towards the lift.

"Where are you taking me? I am not pleased with having to move at this moment."

No response, of course. This race weren't really talkative. He straightened his back, the weight of the melon causing him to make only a minor adjustment to his balance, and followed the pritides into the elevator.

—

The lift opened into a corridor. To their left was a door leading to a dimly lit room. It looked at a first glance to be a laboratory. The guards indicated that is where he was supposed to go.

"In there? Well." There were many elements to be found in a laboratory setting. Maybe they had finally listened to his requests and were to provide him with nourishment?

He stepped into the room. There was a large slab-like table in the center, and on it lay a familiar shape.

If he had been human, he was certain he would have screamed. On display under a sterile white light lay a perfect copy of himself, naked, cut open from the throat to the crotch. All the panels on the head were removed, making it look like a duranium pin cushion of ports and light diodes. The chest was split wide open, the rib construction folded apart to reveal the inner workings. And the belly… He stared at the perfect copy of the melon, split into two. Liquid had splashed from it and dripped down on the floor, making a reddish-pink puddle. There was a lot of liquid. He took a step closer. In the mess that was left of the chamber lay something small, like a heart; red and raw with flecks of gold, duranium and steel shining through the meat. He had to look somewhere else for a millisecond. Even without feelings the scene was making him …unequilibrated.

"Why doesn't it work?"

A pritide had materialised from the shadows behind him. It was speaking Standard, finally, maybe as a courtesy to his fumbling attempt with Pritide, maybe to show him they were as clever as he. It floated up to the slab, pointing accusationly at the replicated head. "Why doesn't it work? And this." A limb shot out to poke at what had been the melon. "Doesn't work. Why?"

Data took comfort in the warmth of the real, living melon against his stomach. "I cannot be replicated. My brain works only with a certain set of quantum strings, adjusted in the correct way. A replicator cannot do this job because the values of the quantum strings are invariably jumbled up in the scanning process and does not transfer."

"I try, and try again." the pritide said, floating closer. "Power cells work, yes, body comes alive. The brain doesn't. Quantum strings." It changed into a solid, spider-like shape, its grey eyes focusing on his. "You were constructed, by humans?"

"Yes. My father is Dr Noonian Soong, a genius among humans. His work on positronic brains is generally considered to be among the best, if not the best. He possessed a deep knowledge of quantum theory and could thus set my brain in working order. It is not - "

"Humans!" The pritide interrupted Data just as he was about to explain that constructing brains as advanced as his was in fact not common knowledge among the human race. It chewed its mandibles thoughtfully, looking down at the mess on the table. "You have learned part of our language. It's a very complex language that humans are not able to speak. Yet a human has constructed you."

"I suspect the inability to speak your language has perhaps not so much to do with the human mind as with physical traits of the human larynx and vocal cords." Data explained. "I can detail further how I am constructed if you agree to release me. You already have a blueprint of me. I can guide you through it to the best of my knowledge. Doctor Soong's work deserve to be spread and appreciated."

"How did Dr Noonien Soong set up the quantum strings? How can this seed of a human-machine bloom into an adult? How does your replicator work in this instance?" The pritide lifted up a part of the replicated melon and shook it. "Can you answer these questions?"

"If you release me." Data looked around the lab. There were many interesting instruments he had never seen before. Parts of a bigger construction lay strewn over work areas. They looked like they would form a projector of some sort. There were broken q-bits ying around. He recognised them as the q-bits he had loaded onto the Enterprise.

"I see you are working on a much bigger project, for which you apparently wanted the Starfleet q-bi-" The melon kicked him in his food container. "- hts."

He took 0,003 milliseconds to collect himself and continued unperturbed: "I see light transmitters and a 3D grid builder. May I ask what you are constructing?"

"I can't tell you that. I can figure out the answer to your questions. Quantum string theory." The insect-like creature turned its head to face him, its eyes huge and faceted. "You shall remain here until your offspring arrives, then we shall trade for both of you. Ironically you are more valuable when we don't know the answers. You are so far unique. I know about the lack of nourishment. You shall have anything you wish." The pritide looked at the melon. "It's very clever, this bud. Is this also Dr Noonien Soong's work?"

Data raised his head proudly. "It is by me and my partner. I shall warn you that my disappearance has not gone unnoticed. Soon Starfleet will come for me. It will be a lot less hassle for you if you release me."

"Starfleet? Starfleet has no idea where you are. Now you will go back to your place. There will be nourishment laid out. We want to make sure you both will be complete and bring good trade."

—

He was escorted back to his place in the cargo bay and re-attached to the wall. Somebody had been working hard in his absence; a selection of all imaginable elements were neatly lined up on the floor, displayed in shallow containers. Perfect. He immediately bent his head down and munched up zinc and potassium, washing it down with gulps of water. Immediately his logs registered a halt to the deterioration of his inner workings. He celebrated this small mercy by licking up a mouthful of gold flakes.

Starfleet didn't know where he was? It made sense. They would already be here if they knew. No man left behind. By his own calculations he was 1,3 parsec from the place where they had taken him. A ship like the Enterprise would have covered that distance in less than two days.

He considered his options. Could he mix an explosive from the different elements laid out before him and apply it to his arm bindings? Maybe the trigger wouldn't go and he could get out of them without getting electrocuted. Or perhaps he could empty the power cells somehow. If only he wasn't thinking so slowly. They would need to apply some nano-replicator techniques to his head to fix that when he had returned to the Enterprise.

He was busy pondering his situation when another guard came up to him, staying well out of reach. "Prisoner, you will be pleased." it said in Standard. This was a most favourable tendency. Hopefully there would be no more pritide.

"I will?"

"You are about to get company. A company for you to pass the time."


	11. Last Chance

Geordi braces himself as the transporter craft is steered, with some force, into the heavily trafficked Veray corridor. The chocolate energy bar slips out of his hand and falls under his seat. He bends down to pick it up, almost hitting his head on the dashboard as the warp engines stall and Lore swears.

"Hey, come on!" Bloody android.

"Shut it candy muncher."

One hour of this so far. He hopes the remaining travel time will pass quickly.

As soon as Lore had grasped the basic points of warp driving Geordi had been confined to the passenger seat, keeping busy trying to convince his company about the value of treating the warp with a feather's gentle touch. It hadn't done much to improve Lore's horrible driving style.

Nor had he gotten any sympathy for the necessity of getting a message out to the Enterprise.

By now Picard must be wondering what had happened to his Chief Engineer and the brand spanking new ship he had entrusted to said engineer. Arguments (like, if Enterprise was hailed they could assist them in getting to Data, either via elegant diplomacy or brute force) had fallen on deaf android ears. Lore wouldn't hear any of it and had gone into a prickly mode, lips pressed into a dangerous line.

The stubborn android obviously considers himself a one-man army, ready to take on whatever these pritide-things turns out to be.

Geordi thinks that the Enterprise crew would say he should be thankful for the small mercy of still being on board and not jetted out into space, never mind failing to get out a message. He doesn't feel very accomplished though, being prevented to inform Picard of his whereabouts, not having much else to do but to sit on his butt and eat the protein bars he remembered to bring, watching how Lore, again two-handed, mistreats the sensitive warp throttle.

The missing android arm had been found at the bottom of the pit under the two shipwrecks. Teamwork had been employed in order to retrieve it: Lore lifted the two ships (one on top of the other) a good meter up from the ground, making it possible for Geordi to scuttle underneath and collect the arm. Then, after a bit of cleaning, it had been an easy affair to click the limb back into place.

Before Geordi had mentioned communicating with the Enterprise one time too many and spoiled the general mood in the cabin, Lore had disclosed some facts about the pritides. Apparently the mysterious race had a mobile science station parked in B-S303. It would be the probable destination for the q-bits according to Lore. Maybe Data had also ended up there.

"How do you even know that they are in S303?" Geordi dares to ask, chewing as discreetly as he can on his protein bar. Moistening the granola with saliva before biting down seems to do the trick.

Or maybe not. Lore glances sideways at his moving jaw with a sour look of disdain. "I hooked up with an info transmitter specialising in science news. The prits are currently doing experiments that require a lot of q-power. They're attempting to create wormholes to escape into the next universe or something like that."

Well, apparently Lore is getting around. Geordi makes a mental note of adding this to his report when he gets back. Starfleet clearly needs to hook up with more info transmitters.

He almost chokes on a mouthful of granola when Lore wrestles the warp gear straight into nine, making the ship lurch forward. The warp begins to take effect, reaching almost eight but not getting enough drive to follow through. A second or two later it coughs pathetically and lapses back into five.

"You just tried that and it didn't work ten minutes ago either! Jumping from five to nine and not switching the active nacelle is just using up plasma." Geordi can't hold it in any longer. How could Soong have missed to program some driving logic into this one? "Don't start the warp increase before you have green light showing the conduits are cool enough, and THEN switch the nacelles! It's the latest type of conduits -"

The whole carriage shakes as warp six is kicked into gear with some force. "I KNOW that." Lore hisses. "I've picked something up about basic physics in my seven months!" He pulls the throttle back as far as it can go, switches nacelles, then presses the regulator into warp eight. Gods, thank you, finally he got it.

"Your seven months of what?" Geordi asks, holding on to his seat as the ship scrambles into warp nine.

Lore turns to look at him like he's an idiot born from a long line of idiots. "In. My. Seven. Months."

"Oh."

He haven't really thought about it, but logically Data's big brother would be younger than baby brother Data. But Lore not even being a year old, while Data is close to thirty? Time must be a strange thing for the Soong androids. He wonders how old they felt right off the starting block, when they were first activated. How much knowledge and experience did Soong load into their memory banks before they had even open their eyes?

He wishes for the umpteen time Data's early memories hadn't been erased. It would have been most interesting to hear about his early days with his parents. What were they like? How did he interact with the other colonists? The reason for the memory wipe, as Data had presented it, seemed like a poor excuse. Why wouldn't Dr Soong want to give a sense of belonging, family roots, to his son? Geordi was no expert by any means, but it made sense to provide a stable and loving home when raising androids, offer them every opportunity to thrive and develop like humans, and then giving them a chance to hold onto that through life. But maybe something horrible had happened, something that caused Soong to disassemble one android and wipe the memory of the other.

A chilling thought runs down his spine. Maybe there had never been any plans to re-activate Lore.

He turns to the android, who is busy throttling the engine gauge, staring at it accusingly for not magically revealing all the secrets of Starfleet-constructed warp coils. The words comes across his lips before he can stop himself:

"It can't be easy."

He thinks about that for a second, after he has spoken. Perhaps he shouldn't have said that. Pity is likely one of the many things that doesn't sit well with Lore. Geordi braces himself for the inevitable burst of rage, taking a submissive interest in the dashboard to minimise the onslaught. He waits five heartbeats. As there is no sneering or shouts of indignation, he dares to glance at his company.

The android looks as if he hasn't heard him, face frozen in a calm neutral expression, one hand still on the engine gauge. Okay good, no explosion of anger. That counts as a success in his book. Still, it's a bit unexpected. Maybe he's busy running systems checks or something. Geordi shrugs mentally and takes an overview of the dash. Distance to destination is now 40 minutes until they are within range of the assumed prit ships in S303. A blinking light catches his eye: the fuel indicator, warning about sinking plasma levels.

He turns to Lore. "Hey, I think we should… oh."

Amber liquid is once again making little trails from the restored eye and down the android's face, painting golden stripes as they go. He doesn't make any move to wipe it off, letting them run towards his chin.

"Your eye ducts has sprung a leak again." Geordi dumbly informs him, as if Lore somehow might have missed the fact.

Geordi looks around for something to soak up the fluid and spots a neatly folded cloth next to the radar screen, specially designed to wipe down the instrument board. Fancy things these new crafts come with.

Risking an indignant outburst, he offers it to Lore. The android makes no attempt to take it, ignoring Geordi and his outstretched hand. A couple of sparkling drops have made it all the way down his face and is threatening to fall onto the seat.

Geordi fidgets. The upholstery is cream-coloured, brand-spanking new just like the rest of the craft, its light colour being as impractical as it is well-matched to the interior colour scheme. One could argue that minding Star Fleet textiles is not on top of Geordi's job description, but in this situation a stain could be so easily prevented. The craft IS new, and he would like to bring it back in perfect condition. If Lore would just take the damn cloth.

"Okay…Here, let me then."

Leaning towards the android, he carefully wipes off the threatening liquid. Drip danger averted, he presses the cloth lightly against the corner of the eye where the fluid seems to originate from, pondering the fact that Lore is actually letting him do insignificant things like this. First tying a rag over his missing eye down on the planet, and now poking around the remaining eye with a piece of cloth to stop Starfleet property getting stained. Picard would be baffled impressed.

"Seems like that duct is broken, can't control it." Lore says in a flat, monotone voice. "Have to get that fixed too."

Satisfied that the trickle has stopped, Geordi puts the rag in the bin compartment where it joins three protein bar wrappers. He checks the dash again: the plasma light indicator is tinted orange.

"I think we should get that re-filled before exiting Veray. We could make it to S303 but only just. I don't want to delay more than absolutely necessary, so let's make a quick stop."

Lore's face has come alive again, forming a frown. He seems to have swung back to his earlier foul mood. "Quickest way is scout another ship."

"Scout as in hijack and plunder? No thanks." Geordi checks the resource compartment for the Starfleet standard trade kit. Good, the assemblers had remember to equip it. He lets the little pebbles of iridium and encapsulated lokium fall into his hand, showing it to Lore.

"To trade with. We're in the Veray going towards Kinok galaxy, there's the HH3 planet systems. In HH3 there are places that we can use them." He checks the computer. Starfleet friendly- and neutral planets light up in yellow on the screen. "Every one of these could work, it'll be a quick stop. Altair, Warmark…"

The last stop before the inky emptiness of S303 has the fitting name "Last Chance". What a dump that must be. Either Warmark or Altair would work, the latter with a nice average temperature of 22 C. He turns to Lore to suggest Altair.

—

Last Chance does indeed live up to its name. The main town is a dinky composite of buildings, hangars, launch sites and roads leading elsewhere, mostly to abandoned mines. The population consists mainly of humans, with quite a few androids and a handful of alien-looking humanoids. The main street is mottled with rough-looking people hanging about, giving the new arrivals shifty looks. Apparently Last Chance doesn't get a lot of the trade traffic coming through HH3. The atmosphere is dry and sand seems to blow everywhere, getting into Geordi's mouth. He wishes they had gone to Altair instead, but once Lore had spotted the name, reading over his shoulder, any objection had been moot.

Trading for the plasma has gone unexpectedly well so far. They quickly found a place carrying everything from whole space ships to food and live pets. The trader had showed them out to the back where he kept big containers of all imaginable fuel. To get the right amount Geordi had only to get out twelve pieces of lokium, which was a good trade. The guy must've been sympathetic to Geordi's plight with dragging around a grumpy android. Or maybe it has something to do with Lore shooting the man one-eyed dark looks, mouth fixed in a silky smile.

"Lore…" This is really not the way Geordi wants to trade. Granted, he is out of his uniform, but the round starry logo is all too visible on the trade bag. They could still be seen as Starfleet, and scaring the other party while making a trade is considered bad form in any galaxy. He nods to th meter tank he just bought: "Maybe you could go and put the plasma in the nacelles while I'm finishing up here?"

"Sure thing, Killer. I'll be at the ship." With a wink and a conspiratory tap on his nose, his annoying companion hauls the plasma tank up on his back like it weighs nothing and trots off toward their ship.

"I'm sorry about that. I'm not called Killer, really…" Geordi sighs. The trader looks nervous. "Anyway, I'd like some food too. We don't have a replicator on board. Some of those pies, and I'll have that dried meat as well."

While waiting for his food to be replicated and put into bags, Geordi leans against the counter, taking a look around the place. Seems to be a local hangout as well as a trader's. There's a group of humans and androids at a table in a corner. They are clearly talking about him, looking at him but trying to make it seem like they're not really looking. If he had a kiss for every time this had happened.. _Yes, its called a VISOR people. Gawk all you want._

The group has apparently decided it is worth the effort approaching him and asking about it, because here comes two of them. A greying, portly man with a small woman in tow is making his way over from the table. As they approach, Geordi realises the woman following him is an android of a primitive type, about 1,6 meter high and of a type used for company, sex, and simple repairs. She's made to look like a toffee-coloured human female; her plain face is empty and expressionless.

The man walks up to him. "I saw youse coming into town. Starfleet?"

"No, not at the moment. Shore leave." Geordi instantly takes a dislike to the guy. Something tells him he's just been sniffed out by one of the local top dogs, a man used to getting his way.

"How about that. That's an impressive android you've got with you. Never seen anything like it. What kind is it?"

So it's not the VISOR this time, it's the android. "He's a Soong-type."

They should have thought of covering Lore's head too and not just the missing eye. His colourful cranial lights are like a big sign saying HELLO, ANDROID. Geordi has just gotten so used to them he don't really notice them anymore.

The man leans against the counter, mirroring Geordi's posture. His android takes what is probably her usual position, standing just behind the man with her head lowered.

"Soong.. really advanced huh. And strong, I saw it carry the tank. Kind of ugly though, what's with the skin and the nose. And it could use some repairs on the missing eye. But I'd be willing to take it off your hands." The man gives what he no doubt believes to be a trustworthy and disarming smile, kindly offering to help this stranger get rid of his half-broken android. "Interested in trading it?"

Geordi is thankful Lore is out of earshot or there would be blood right about now. "HE is a Soong type, deemed sentient by trial in Starfleet. As in, he's a person and not an object, with the full rights of a sentient being. Like you and me."

"Really. Well here we don't really take notice of Starfleet rules. Our androids are not 'setinent'. Just look at my girl here." He makes a gesture towards his companion with its unchanging vacant face. She continues to stare haplessly at the floor. "And you're here now where our rules apply. Our droids don't have fancy ideas about themselves."

"Sorry, I can't help you. He has fancy ideas about himself and is not mine to trade."

"So what are you saying, you're saying you're not his owner? If that's what you're saying, all the better. Then I'll just help myself." He pats an impressive disruptor hanging from his belt. "I'll have it caught and re-programmed before you can say 'sentitent'. But - I'm a honest man so I rather do an honest deal."

Well that's just great. This guy thinks Geordi is using haggling tactics; an out-of-towner sitting here claiming preposterous things about androids being sentient just to get the price up. If he were to tell the man he himself was in an equal relationship with an android his head would probably explode.

"There's no deal." he says with a louder voice than before. "I'm not interested, and HE is definitely not interested. If you try to approach him, I think the odds are you will be hurt. Badly. So I would advise you to leave us well alone."

Something in his demeanour must have gotten through, because the man drops his act. "Well that's no civilised way of talking business. I was just asking. Jeez, and here I thought you looked like a reasonable guy."

He watches the man retreating hastily back to his table, his little android faithfully shuffling after. Geordi is left with the surreal knowledge that the man was scared of HIM, and his command over his powerful android, and not of Lore himself.

As he leaves with a bag full of meat pies and pemmican he spots a couple of androids repairing a ship, and another one talking to a human outside the eatery. Now when he look for it he can see the 'droids have tiny gold chains around their necks, the chain attached to a thin metal plate fastened on back of the neck. Geordi doesn't know exactly what it's for, but he can sort of imagine. Last Chance is clearly not a nice place to be an android. He shall put a note of warning in the Starfleet system when he get back to the ship.


	12. Data is bored and Geordi gets in a fight

It is puzzling. What does 'getting company' entail? He has been thinking about it for the last hour, while trying to scoop up small pieces of animal fat with his tongue. The human body was definitely not constructed to efficiently eat from bowls on the floor without the use of the hands. He twists his tongue around a sinewy bit. Theoretically he could just lay himself down over the bowl and put the melon within reach of the fat, but then his uniform would get stained.

His thoughts, strangely slow (this must be what it is like to be human!) returns to the prospect of a 'company'. The odds of the Enterprise sending a rescue team, and that rescue team getting captured and kept alive, is only approximately 12,53201%. So probably it would be no-one from the Enterprise. The most possible explanation is another prisoner, someone this species has come across and also consider valuable enough to keep. They would not keep ordinary humans. Data runs through his knowledge bank on the area of space they are in. Mostly dark matter, some lonely asteroid belts, not very interesting. What could it be?

The melon is growing faster now. The rate has increased with 1,65 % since yesterday. It has been moving about constantly the last 48 hours, and more so when the night shift usually starts on the Enterprise. He can see no logical explanation for this, and attributes it to coincidence.

Thankfully he has been left mostly alone in the cargo bay. Pritides have come and gone, carrying boxes and crates, only giving him a passing glance. The scientist has been down twice to check that he has all the food and water he needs. He is pleasant enough to talk to, but Data doesn't like the way he looks at the melon. Last time he wanted to touch it again and even weigh it. Touching it meant getting very close, and an increasing risk of the melon getting hurt in some way. Data had let him know it would crave some effort from his side to touch it, because he, its parent, did not approve of this action. He had also informed him that the melon was exactly, at that moment, 7,421,213,025,574 nanograms heavy, and he would be happy to answer any other questions regarding himself or his offspring.

As he leans back against the wall he thinks about Geordi, and the sensory input patterns he generates. Right now for example, if they were on the Enterprise, he would be rising for his daily morning routine. Or more correct: their daily morning routine. Data has come to share this routine on the days when their schedules allow it, going through the motions of 'waking up', like Geordi does them. When they have gotten out of bed, performed a combination of selected actions (so far from the following list of options: _yawning, stretching arms, scratching crotch_ (this had brought much merriment from Geordi when Data had tried it), _cursing the seemingly quick passage of hours designated for sleep_, and _rubbing eyes_), and Geordi had eaten breakfast and Data had ingested his glass of silicone, they would enter the bathroom. After the ceremony of oral cavity cleaning Geordi would put on the lid askew on the oral cavity fluid, and Data would take it off and put it on the right way (this had happened on 19 of the 42 occasions they had performed the oral cleaning routine together.). Then they probably would share a kiss before exiting the bathroom. This had happened on 34 of the 42 occasions. Data would not mind sharing a kiss with Geordi right now. He must be experiencing something akin to longing.

The melon moves, restless. He can identify with this. Sitting chained in one place is very boring. He can see a couple of pritides in the end of the bay, then they change into vapours and disappear. They are probably still present. Ah, they have floated up to the ceiling to do some repairs.

He rolls his head to the left. He has not been alone for such an extended period of time before. Craving human company must be hard-coded into his personality, because most artificial life forms he has encountered do not care if they would never see a human again. Perhaps wanting to become a human is also a code string put there by his creator, Dr Soong? It is an effective tool for socialising an artificial life form. Dr Soong was truly a genius.

He hopes that his company, when it arrives, will be a human.

The way back to the ship feels longer than it actually is. The sun burns on Geordi's head and his stomach growls, and he can't get out of view from the locals soon enough. The road is packed dirt, red and sun-scorched, lined with empty shacks and derelict hangars. They have parked the ship in the outskirts of the town, where the buildings are more spaciously scattered and mostly abandoned. Less risk of gawking locals wanting to go for a test ride.

As he is walking he ponders the idea of how to measure a man, and how their child would be treated if and when it decides to reveal its true nature to the world. Starfleet's recognition of Data's sentience had been a big step in the right direction. Now at least they had a court decision on his status as a real person. Well, within the world of Starfleet anyway.

Down here however, the measuring yardstick is of a different kind. They will no doubt encounter the same scenario on many planets they will visit, either on shore leave or in service. Or, come to think of it, if they simply move out of their circle of friends on the ship. He recalls the overheard party conversation with a sigh. Going around hitting people over the head with the court decision is always an option, but it would be nicer if people just could get it by themselves.

Maybe they should raise the melon openly as a half-human, half-android, and try their utmost to make it work. Perhaps that would result in a happier existence for an older, fully-grown melon. If they take the honest approach great efforts will be needed to counter prejudices and hardships. If they don't apply themselves their child might grow up alienated, taking a dislike to humans and to itself. Like the angry android waiting for him at the ship.

One thing can be said about human nature; his own species is certainly not short of hypothetical reasons for deeming one being as being above another. There is a red thread of subjective exclusion running down the years of history. Nationality, religion, race. Species. He suddenly realises he himself might not have fared so well way, way back, when skin colour was another illogical marker of value, or the lack thereof. He recalls some of the horrible stories that was taught in school. By many of the old standards he himself would have been seen as a lesser person; handicapped, gay, black, born and raised in Old Africa.

What a relief that such reasons for discrimination are unthinkable now. One can only hope Data's case can serve as a model to bring even more tolerance into the Starfleet universe.

He puts his thoughts aside as the road turns into a path. The ship should come into view soon. He remembers the big hangar to the right, and then the particularly rusty shack he took as a landmark. Behind that big barn-like structure he should start seeing glimpses of the hull.

Any second now.

As more and more of the area behind the barn comes into view he can feel his heart speeding up. There is no ship. Just hard, sun-scorched soil and empty space.

_Crap._

He clutches his bag with the food tighter. Lore has taken off with the ship.

He should have seen it coming, really. But he didn't. To be honest, he is surprised. But it would be a fun joke, wouldn't it, stealing the ship and leaving the stupid human at the mercy of the undeveloped hillbillies with no means of contacting the Enterprise. Last Chance, indeed. He grits his teeth. The bloody, fucking, golden-assed…

His cursing is cut short as he spots another barn-like structure a bit further down the dirt path, very similar to the first one. And there's another rusty shack in front of it, looking for all the world like every other rusty shack in this forsaken dirt-hill of a town. It's entirely possible that would be the actual landmark indicating the position of their ship. He thinks of checking his tricorder. 47 meters to ship.

Feeling like a dumb-butt, he rounds the barn and lo and behold, there is both the ship and its accompanying android. Lore is standing next to the entry door, staring into nothing with the same blank expression Geordi has seen on Data many times. Probably it's system check-time again. The plasma tank is lying empty and discarded next to the ship. The nacelles must be refilled, good.

Seeing the scene in front of him fills him with giddy relief. He didn't think he would actually be happy to see the evil android, in any situation or context.

"Hey, I'm back." He waves the bag to rouse Lore from his system diagnostics. "With some carbon-based sustenance." _Yeah, I've got more food to noisily chew and swallow in your close vicinity._ "I bought the crunchiest crusted pies they had."

The android's yellow eye snaps into focus, staring at the bag like it's a direct affront to his very existence. He begins to say something, but stops short. Nostrils flared, he looks past Geordi down the dirt path.

"What?" Geordi says, confounded. He looks around, listening intently. There's only the faint sound of the wind rustling and shaking corroded metal sheets. Sand dust hitting walls of steel with a smattering sound. His VISOR registers the old derelict buildings, piles of trash metal, Lore sparkling brightly in gold and green, grey dirt… and also an unexpected blue light coming from behind an old hangar. Someone is behind the hangar.

That is all he manages to register before he is snatched up and flung over Lore's shoulder. Somewhat annoyed but mostly surprised he gets out a half-winded protest while Lore veers away from the open place as laser lights exploding in rapping thunder all around them.

He manages to shield his VISOR from bright red beams threatening to burn through the sheeting. There are dark shadows behind them; humanoids, maybe four or five people. There's shouting, and firing, and then he is thrown down hard behind an old concrete shack.

"Stay!" Lore hisses and disappears around the building.

Crawling up from the ground, Geordi ignores a sharp pain in his shoulder where he landed. _What the heck?_ There's a loud bang, and a man is shouting, the voice mixing with crashes and bangs like someone is violently dismantling a scrap yard.

He draws his phaser and peeks around the corner.

There are about four androids engaging Lore in a deadly game of catch, moving lightning fast between and over the roofs of the old buildings. Shots are blasting like lightening, mixing into the blur of red dust and steely metal glimmer.

He tries to help by getting a clear shot on one of the attackers, but they are too fast even for Geordi's VISOR to follow clearly. He can't even say for sure how many androids there are. 'His' android doesn't seem to need any help at the moment though, easily holding his own. As Lore ducks a shot coming from behind, Geordi looks around the scene. Where's the human? He's sure he heard a human male shouting.

Blue light is glowing behind a crate; as he focuses on it a pair of faces comes into view through the dust. Two humans, one older and fatter and one younger. Geordi recognizes the fat, greying human as the one at the trader, the local boss who tried to buy Lore. Of course. Couldn't take no for an answer.

"Hey stranger, where did you go?" The fat man shouts. "Too bad you didn't want to make a deal. I'm gonna snare your wild beast and tame it, make it do some real work! Don't fire, son." he adds to the younger man who is trying to follow the fighting androids with his phaser. "You can damage its head. Pike has this under control. Go Pike, take it's legs out!"

What a couple of cowards, Geordi thinks, setting his phaser to stun and searching for a good angle on the humans. Do your own dirty work, go after him yourself. He tries to spot his android among the buildings as a hangar collapses.

Lore comes tumbling out of the rubble, a big ugly steel-coloured thing with a phaser in each hand following him. The others is not far behind, arranging themselves to cut off their preys retreat options.

"Ah! Fuck!"

He freezes at the sound of the familiar voice crying out, tries to follow what is happening while keeping an eye on the two men. A laser beam has gone clean through Lore's shoulder, leaving the fabric of his shirt smoking. It was a lucky shot from one of the androids, but it was also its last. Lore retaliates, fast like a viper, pierces it with a spear-like shard straight through its core processor. Or at least what used to be its core processor before the shard turned it into quivering scrap metal. One down, three to go.

"Pike, get it! The legs!"

Big Ugly has taken the opportunity to fire at his prey's feet, but his target is on the move, approaching quickly and keeping his own weapon blasting. Two shots hit close to Big Ugly's own legs, the third one hitting its target. As the android struggles to stay upright a strike to his neck fells him to the ground.

Geordi has to duck out of the way as a head comes flying, a look of fear frozen on its aluminium features.

"No! Pike!"

He stays down as Big Ugly's arms follow in quick succession, turquoise fluid spilling out the veins like little fountains. Two down.

The younger guy has followed the airy trajectory of the android parts and spots Geordi behind the shack, he takes aim but is a second too late. A stun shot hits bulls eye in the center of his forehead. The man goes down soundlessly, mouth gaping.

There are more crashes and bangs as Lore uses Pike's torso to bash another droid's head in, brown stuff squirting pathetically out its ears, and then lashing out at a third one coming up behind him.

In the space of twenty seconds the scene has changed much for the better, Geordi thinks. The boss man is down to only one fighter. He gets off a desperate stream of phaser shots, having come to the realisation there's suddenly more at stake here than just stealing an android off some dumb tourist.

The old man is not a bad shot all considering; he would have hit his target if it had been a human. As things are however he only manages to hit his own fighter in the back as Lore grabs it and swings it around into the line of fire.

As the human is preoccupied with Lore, Geordi takes the opportunity and hits him in the shoulder with his second stun shot. _Got you!_ He feels strangely accomplished as the fat man sinks to the ground next to his younger friend.

Smiling beatifically, Lore towers over the fourth and last android. It's easily twice his weight and bulk, but now it's on its knees before him, twitching in a way that tells its body control is malfunctioning. Its audio center is making a faint 'yp yp' sound.

Putting his phaser away, Geordi draws a sigh of relief. Their attackers are down for the count. The humans are neatly lying next to each other, and the four androids are more or less ready for the scrapheap.

"La Forge, look how ugly these things are. No finesse." Lore pushes the android's head one way, then the other. "What the fuck are you saying, huh? Yp yp? Is it 'bye bye'? All right then!"

The creature shrieks, a machine-like sound, as Lore punches through its rib cage and tears out its main processor from the chest cavity. Smoke from what Geordi assumes are failing thermo regulators billows as it spasms down into offline. Lore smiles wider and throws the processor heart in the face of the boss human, making blood spurt from his nose and jolting him out of stun mode.

"Here you go, a little souvenir from your departed friend! Now for the main event…"

Realising what is about to happen, Geordi hurries to where the two guys have fallen; putting himself between them and Lore. The odds of them getting out of this situation alive are only slightly higher than nothing.

He holds his hands up, trying to get the android to back off. Lore is looking way too murderous for Geordi's liking. "Take it easy, okay? Hey. They are harmless!"

"We got ambushed, La Forge! By amateurs!" Lore grins, easily sidestepping Geordi and going straight for the humans.

"No, wait!"

The boss doesn't look very powerful now, whining as he drips blood on the ground. So used to getting his way, not accepting the fact the fancy hi-tech android was going to leave this planet when he wanted it for himself. Of course he would get a small posse together to take out the hapless lone traveller and steal both his android and his ship. Bringing the loot back to certify his position among the locals. Amidst his fear, Geordi feels a tiny glint of satisfaction as Lore kicks dust into the man's face.

The android picks up boss guy's phaser and walks over to the still stunned younger man, slapping him with the weapon one, two times. He wakes with a groan, the sound changing into a whine of protest as his head is forced up by his hair. "Augh! Stop!"

"It's gonna be a fine day today, it's gonna be a fiiine day tomorrow, la la la li-lala la.."

"Don't hurt them!"

Lore slaps the man again, making his face blush crimson. "Some - local - hospitality! Trying to take our ship huh?"

He looks up at Geordi, eye glittering feral yellow. "They choose a nice secluded area to attack us. Makes it easy to kill them without getting bogged down with having to kill the whole population. Right La Forge?" Smiling, he picks up a metal shard from one of the broken androids and playfully rams it through the human's calf.

"Lore, STOP!" Geordi tries to make himself heard over the young man's screaming.

"No! Please, don't hurt my son!." the boss man says, turning to Geordi "No more. You won. Tell it to let us go!"

"It? Oh, I see. You think my tiny friend here is calling the shots. You thought you were going to steal this gentleman's ship AND his meek android." Lore makes a graceful jump over to the other human.

As Geordi watches helplessly, the android sits down on the man's back and grabs his head with both hands. "Mister, I'll tell you something that will blow you mind, make your head pop off your shoulders." He squeezes the man's skull between his hands, adjusting his hold to get a really good grip. Looking at Geordi, he winks and grins. "Poppity-pop!"

There has not been a lot of things in Geordi's life that has prepared him for seeing a human head ripped from its body. He can imagine it won't be pleasant, but somehow he can't look away from the gruesome scene about to develop in front of him. Cold angst ripples up his spine. Two people are currently alive, lying breathing and conscious at his feet, and he got to keep them alive somehow.

The man has gone red in the face, and he is making distinctly unhealthy sounds. "No, no…" There's a sickly crunching noise as Lore pulls his head ever so slowly upwards, away from his body.

"Yes, yes!" The android's features has twisted into a grinning mask, his one eye gleaming with mirth. "Ready or not! Do you see a light, human? There's supposed to be a light. But here's the secret: there is only indifference. Get ready to meet your nothing!"

Geordi's mind is working fast, two people alive right now, gotta keep them alive…

Without a better idea, he walks up to Lore. Trying to catch the android's eye, he improvises wildly. "Don't do it, please. I'll…I'll owe you one."

He puts his hands over the long-fingered golden ones gripping the man's head. Up close he can see just how hard Lore is pressing down on the skull. If the guy should live through this he will have some serious bruising tomorrow.

His efforts are rewarded with a snort. "You'll OWE me one?"

Taking a deep breath, Geordi is very careful not make it seem like he is prying the murderous android off his prey. He's barely letting their hands touch, the warmth of the syntho-skin soaking into his palms. He looks pleadingly into the one eye glaring up at him, though he suspects his VISOR doesn't transmit pleading very well.

His intentions seems to go through, finally. The android's brows knit together in puzzlement. "La Forge, he tried to KILL you just now. What a saint you are! And you'll owe me one? What the fuck does that even mean?" Lore looks down on the human head in his hands, now a ripe tomato colour with veins popping out like fat worms, and then back at Geordi. "Fine. You federation people."

He gets off the boss with a huff, walks over to the other human who has crawled away several meters in an attempt to get away. The younger man is wailing quietly, clutching his calf, blood everywhere. As Lore approaches him, a dark stain spreads over the crotch of the man's pants.

"That's premature, human. No need for death-wetting, not yet."

"In the name of consequence I think we'll let that one go too." Geordi says quickly, not looking directly at the guy to try and save some of his dignity.

"Sure, why not." Lore smiles an angel-like smile, playfully kicking out at the man's injured leg, laughs as he screams in pain. He seems to enjoy this new game of 'Geordi setting strange random rules'.

"Ah, poor little leg. I guess you OWE me another one now, Geordi La Forge. Right, no rest for the wicked."

He turns towards the ship, kicking a ripped-off android head down the road. "You coming? We got a retard to find."

Geordi turns to the men on the ground, not knowing what parting words are expected in a situation like this. The youngster is sobbing quietly, his father coughing and blubbering blood bubbles.

"Um, you'll be fine. You'll both be fine. I gotta go..."

"That thing should be put down!" The boss spits red, face contorted with indignation. "You owe me four androids!"

For not the first time, Geordi ponders the qualities of the human race. "Yeah, whatever."


	13. With piranha teeth

As the tension from the fight leaves Geordi's body, and the comfy passenger seat melts into just the right shape around him, he lets himself fall into a half-slumber. The ship purrs and vibrates soothingly as it feasts on the fresh plasma fuel.

It's no use to watch over the controls or having an opinion about the course to S303, so he might as well take a nap. The crazy android does what he wants to do anyway.

The crazy android.. so unlike his brother. Got some good repairs done on him. Fine repair work. Just a moment ago he had taken the opportunity to add another skill to his list: healing the phaser wound in Lore's shoulder with two carefully applied medcorder beams, restoring the perfectly smooth skin. He had run his hand over the spot just to make sure there were no irregularities. Watch out Dr Crusher!

It could be something for his CV: _"Geordi La Forge - expert on Advanced Android Adjustments."_ If Starfleet eventually wears him out he could start a business: _"Seek Soong-type Service? - La Forge is your man"_.

Lore's naked shoulder had not affected him in the slightest.

Turning to face the side of the cabin, he sinks further into slumber, letting thoughts come and go as they please. One memory surfaces easily enough: Lore's back panel springing open back down on Aquilae II. The android laid out before him. All that power beneath his hands; synthetic muscles tense and ready to bolt but staying put, trusting him to do a good job.

There is a weird feeling curling in his belly as he recalls how Lore's skin had sparkled in the sun as he had carefully inserted his hands into his body. The innards had gleamed in green, orange, and pink, a multitude of colours, contrasting with the silvery metal spine. He had followed the visible 30-or-so centimetres of it with his eyes, studying how it appeared through the mid-chest compartment divider, coming down the torso's length and then disappearing again under the skin where the back met the buttocks.

What a remarkable moment it had been, seeing the duranium spine bared. One of the most vulnerable parts of a Soong android. He had even been allowed to handle the delicate wires running through it. Some of them no thicker than a human hair. Dr Soong must have been steady with his hands to get all that wiring in place.

Lore hadn't reacted with excitement or arousal when Geordi had been messing around with his lower back panel, which was just as he had wanted it. It didn't really say anything in regard to how Data would react though, so it would still be a point to test his back-panel-as-an erogenous-zone-theory.

He is very much looking forward to finding out if there's anything to this idea. When they're both back home, safe and sound, he's definitely going to suggest it. Perhaps Dr Soong installed pressure indicators on the inside too? That would mean a whole new world of daring things to try.

For example, Data might just love to have his storage units fondled. Geordi smiles into the seat at the thought._ Mmm, feel my storage units baby._

It's easy enough to picture the two of them in his quarters, trying out new things on the bed. He indulges himself, imagines it's the bigger upper back panel this time.

In his mind he is stroking slowly along the opening, Data's breath coming in little gasps. Then he lets his hand skim over the rib relays, travel further up to his partner's main power generator, over the humming bi-processors… He pictures Data squirming with pleasure on the bed, trembling and clutching the sheets…no, let's make it grass. Yes, outside is better.

Maybe they could do this on the Holodeck. Data in the green grass and sunshine. His stomach lurches with delight at the image. _Oh, you are beautiful._ Or is it Lore? But they look so alike. That cocky bastard. Would love to see him squirm. He follows the spine upwards, leaving possessive fingerprints all over the perfect silvery surface, marking him. _Mine_. The artificial body writhes, little moans escaping Data's lips as Geordi pushes through the compartment divider and enters the upper chest area. Holding him still while caressing the warm processor heart, feeling tremors running under his hand.

Then - having the tables turned. The sun suddenly blocked, his dark hair like a halo. Stroking the firm chest, feeling the sensitive nubs harden under his palms. Slammed roughly against the tree again, clothes ripping. A new pain, sharp, demanding. Sparks of skin and burning fingers. Moan his name as he pushes inside, his turn to be inside now. Digging nails into his scalp, dirty, quickly rising flames and heat. Joined together, teeth biting down, his name -

Which name?

One single eye winks at him.

Shit.

Where is he?

_Uh-oh._

He opens his eyes in a slight panic. _You're not on the Holodeck now mister._

Lore is looking at him quizzically, nostrils flared and the steering controls forgotten.

"Um…" Geordi attempts to collect himself. The bastard has probably been watching him for a long time, painfully aware of his excited state. That sensitive nose must have been registering his rampaging pheromones since the very second he started thinking about back panels and bioplast.

"Sweet dreams, La Forge? They look sweet indeed." Lore's smile is smarmy, mocking.

Geordi awkwardly pulls one leg up to cover his heated crotch, trying to create at least an illusion of dignity. This is not going according to plan. If Lore was suspicious there was an attraction from Geordi's side before, he is probably very suspicious about the cause of his, um, _state_ right now.

_There must be something wrong with me._ They look exactly alike, that must be it. It MUST be! The android before him is a killer, he is heartless, a psychopath.

He is disgusted with himself.

"I, um…I just miss Data so much."

There's a loud bang as Lore slams a fist into the side of the cabin, metals screaming and grinding in protest.

Geordi jumps to high heaven.

"Really! Data?" How come you just said MY name!?" Lore hisses, yanking his fist loose from the wall so violently that the whole cabin seems to shake.

There went the pristineness of the craft. No more minding the upholstery from this point on.

"No I did not! …I don't know what I said!" Gods almighty, he couldn't have said it out loud, surely not? "Don't damage the ship, we need the bloody ship!"

Lore looks at him, fist ready and eyebrows raised.

He suddenly remembers a piece of vital information about this android. "Don't damage the ship PLEASE."

The fist drops. "You said my name." Lore smirks coldly. "You got the hotties for me."

He leans back in the driver's seat with his arms crossed.

"Admit it."

Despite the less than erotic situation, Geordi still can't help noticing how the android's arms is stretching his tunic down so that it tightens over his pectorals, showing off the hardness of his nipples.

A pang of re-kindled desire curls around the burning shame in his gut. Lusting after his partner's brother, lusting after him even now in this very moment, and the brother reading him like an open book, is bad enough…but the brother being such a despicable creature… Data must never know about this. Never!

"No. You must have misheard me if I did say something." He tries his best indifferent look, feeling the weakness of his words as he speaks. "I can't… Please don't be angry."

"I get it." Lore growls, getting more surly by the second. "YOU disgust ME. Pathetic flesh-bag of rotting meat. I pity my brother."

He turns away to face the controls again, jaw tense, his colourful cranial lights painting a stark contrast to his dark and sulking demeanour.

Geordi exhales slowly. Talk about putting oneself in dangerous situations. Annoying a remorseless killer in a confined area… He looks out the side window at the starry warp blur. Why should Lore even care if he does have 'the hotties' for him? As the perfect being Lore imagines himself to be, and as heartless and dishonest as he is, surely he shouldn't care about what a lowly human thinks?

Probably he just wants to tease Geordi about it, and is angry because he didn't get him to confess. Still, the fist was a bit much.

But it's not like he himself has behaved totally appropriately either. If he'd be out in a craft with someone and his company would start rubbing up against the seat and moan his name, he'd be pretty frazzled too.

"Look, I'm really sorry. I'm behaving like a creep - "

"You haven't even guessed why I really want to find Data." The words are spit out between clenched jaws.

Geordi swallows the rest of his planned apology. "Um, sibling responsibility, right? You're gonna be the one saddling up the white horse to save him, not I."

The android whips his head around to face him, eye dark and mouth in a snarl: "Oh I know the stories, all of them, remember. There's no fucking horse in this one. No horses and hounds in space." He laughs bitterly, showing his square human teeth. Geordi is mildly surprised, like every time he sees them, by how human they look. He somehow expects them to be pointed and sharp.

"I'm the bad character in your narrative. I'm not going to save Data. I'm going to destroy him. I'll blow up the retard into atoms. It's a too good opportunity to miss, him being so far away from his cosy little group of Starfleet friends. They won't be able to stop me. There's just you, and you can't do anything. You're useless."

He turns to face the main screen, his profile outlined by the lights outside. "And then after I've killed Data I'll destroy myself. All of Often-Wrong's hard work will have been for nothing, and his sick legacy will disappear. Not one of his children, not even the one who got to live, will exist to tell of his achievements."

Geordi doesn't say anything as fear and confusion battles in his mind. A killing mission? Is that what this is? But really, what did he imagine Lore would do with his brother once he found him? Surely not letting him walk off and go back to Starfleet. And what would he do with Soong's grand-child? He hasn't given a thought to how Lore would react to the melon - he has only pictured them finding Data and the melon and then… Then what?

He thought he was coming to save them, but maybe he is only bringing them certain death.

Desperation grips him as he turns to the hailing system. If he can get just ten seconds to work the transmitter he can get a Mayday signal out… but he'll never get even one.

He could find a way to get the ship to self-destruct and blow them both up, and hope that Data and the melon will survive on their own. Again, he would need seconds he will never get. Another dead end.

Apathy digs into his mind. Need to think. Again, he didn't see this coming. The idea was that Lore would be eager to go and save Data, right? Wasn't it a sibling responsibility he had taken on happily?

He decides to follow his gut feeling, caching on to one tangible sentence. _"If Lore wanted X to happen, it would already have happened"_ has proved to be a valid method of reasoning so far. Back when he was on the Enterprise, there was no lack of opportunities to kill Data. And the potential audience would have been much bigger. So why now?

Why now indeed.

Trying his best to channel Counsellor Troi, he slowly untangles the messy situation. Could this be brought on by Geordi denying what his sordid fantasy was about? A lost opportunity for teasing... like Spot would sulk after having her toy mouse snatched out of her claws.

The more he thinks about it, the more he's sure.

"I don't believe you. We couldn't have stopped you before either. You're having me on."

"Guess you're gonna find out soon, meatbag." Lore scowls, head twitching irritably as he throttles the warp down to a three, banking off the Veray and into the pritide area.

"You ARE having me on."

His company ignores him, busy with getting the ship out of warp and down to standard cruising speed.

Geordi leans back into his seat, nerves a bit more frayed than they were this morning. His hands… yup, his hands are shaking. After this is over, he'll need a long shore leave on some quiet peaceful planet. And therapy, he's pretty sure he's going to need that as well. Why can't this bloody ...machine.. be more like his brother? There's one thing to be said though, he'd make one heck of a bodyguard.

Now there's another thing he forgot. Where is his manners lately? He snorts inwardly. The constant threat of violent death hanging in the air must have a dampening effect on his p's and q's. But nobody can say Mrs La Forge raised a son completely lacking in manners.

"Thank you, by the way. I didn't say it before."

"What?"

"For saving my hide down there. I don't know why you bothered, but thanks. And also for not killing anybody."

The android slowly shakes his head. "Hey. I killed four people. Didn't you notice?"

"You did?" Damn, how fast is he? When? Who?

"I did. But you only counted the humans."

"Yeah, no but….you said 'people'". Geordi says sheepishly. People. As in biological and breathing. With proper facial expressions and family names. _Names like Soong?_ his brain helpfully offers. Yes, but _Data_ is a real person, of course he is! Those androids down there, he didn't know them! He didn't know their names!

But he did, right? He heard a name, but he can't remember now. The big grey ugly one. Was it Spike? No, but almost. Something similar.

Pike.

He knew the android's name, but not the human's. And yet he didn't lift a finger to stop Pike dying, despite not having the faintest idea how sentient he/she/it was. The thought simply did not occur to him.

Lore is just watching him, letting him dig his own hole. Gods, what a great parent he will make. The last half hour he's been lusting after his partner's brother and denounced the whole species of said partner. He shouldn't be allowed anywhere near the melon.

"Look, when I say 'people'… I did notice the androids -"

Lore cuts in on him, incredulous. "How the fuck my brother can stand you I have no idea. Even as dim as he is, he must have some lowest watermark on double standards."

His one eye is lime-green in the light of the cabin, pupil slitted like a snake's. "Or maybe he's your doted upon, special _ship android_."

Geordi bridles at the words. "Yeah well you clearly don't discriminate. You kill everybody without a thought!"

"What can I say, I have other standards than race."

Biting back a response, Geordi wishes for the umpteen time he could just punch this android in the face, hard.

As he stews in shame, guilt, and gruesome scenarios, Lore goes back to ignoring him again, flipping through the infra channels on the radar screen with a inhuman speed.

The information display counts down to zero distance to destination.

"We're in the target area. Five parsec away at two; there's a ship. Class A federation." Lore nods at the screen. A green blob is floating on the left hand side. "Which one?"

Geordi snaps out of his misery. "Class A... I think it's the _Scholl_. It's doing routine flushes of the systems, and monitoring the S303-sector." He's unsure how much he should disclose about the weird light manifestations in the area.

With a few quick taps he imports the Starfleet logs from the nearest time beacon to confirm the ship's identity. Anything to distract him from his own thoughts. Yes, it's _USS Sophie Scholl NCC-1320_ all right.

The p-radiation scan bleeps. They both watch as the seemingly empty space starts to curve around a spherical object.

"Hey! The prit ship! I knew it." Lore says, tapping the screen. "They have a counter-gravity distortion in use but they didn't account for p-radiation, or didn't bother to activate it."

"That's the pritides?" It doesn't look like he expected it too. Well, he didn't know exactly what he'd expected, but that looks like some sort of... old fashioned LED light. Or even a 20th century light bulb.

"Sure is. A research station. The_ Scholl_ is just 0,26 parsec away from it. Are they monitoring them as well?"

Geordi shrugs. "I don't think they are aware of it. If they are, I guess they just ignore each other. Starfleet usually just stay clear of that race." One question is burning on his mind. He is almost afraid to voice it. "Can you detect if Data is on board?"

"He's there." Lore's mouth is a thin sharp line, his brows knitted. "I know it."

"Great! That's great." He puts a hand over his beating heart, wills it to calm down. _Soon baby, I'm coming! I'll get you out of there._

"Something wrong with your brand new instruments, La Forge?"

"Huh?" Geordi loses his train of thought and looks down at the screen again. The pritide station is still there, so what is... Then he sees it: leaving no debris or trace waves, the green blip representing the _Scholl_ has completely disappeared off the radar.


	14. Ensign Relta

According to his internal chronometer it is just about 16 hours, 4 minutes, 18 seconds and 24235,3452 milliseconds after his last interaction with his captors, when the guards appear again. They come floating towards him, a bit slower than usual, weighed down by a bundle they are dragging between them. It is human-sized and moaning, a cocoon created by a big aluminium blanket that is effectively hiding its contents.

They throw the bundle down right next to where Data sits with his many bowls, still chained to the wall.

The cocoon wails and twists around on the floor. He deduces that it is indeed a real human in there. This must be company they said he was to receive. How did they find a human out here? Could it be a sign the Enterprise has found him? Geordi?

For a 0.1352 part of a millisecond his brain deludes him that it IS Geordi in there, and he is experiencing something akin to a feeling. Then he sees the blonde strands of hair sticking out from one end of the blanket and a new set of would-be sensations arrive. Elation perhaps, as well as disappointment.

The bundle moans, a blonde head pokes through the folds. He quickly runs the facial featured through his extensive catalogue of humans he has met. It is nobody he knows.

"Here humanoid, your company." The guards' duty done, they turn to leave.

"Wait. I need more water. Please." He studies the human. It is a male of about 40 years. They are comparatively big drinkers. "Much more water. And more human food."

The man kicks in frustration at his wrappings.

"And would you please help him out of the blanket?"

"We will bring you more water and food." They pull the aluminium sheet away from the man, revealing a Starfleet Standard space suit, and underneath it a wrinkled-up uniform showing the rank of Ensign. The human looks around at his surroundings, wild-eyed.

One of the guards nods at the man. "Meanwhile, you can drink this one's fluids."

Data understands the comment for what it is; not a joke but straight-forward advice. A human is after all approximately 65% water.

He thanks them politely, waits until they have exited. Then he turns to the man in the spacesuit.

"Greetings."

The man moans and touches his head. There could be many reasons for this: headache, lack of fluids, stress, trauma, a sense of vertigo.

He tries again, a bit louder this time: "Greetings. I am Lieutenant Commander Data of -"

"Where am I? No, it can't be!" The man sits up suddenly, then clutches his head again, crow's feet crinkling the pink skin on his upper cheeks. "My head!"

Data blinks. The man doesn't seem to be listening. He puts on a sterner voice. "Sir. You are on a pritide research station. It seems like you are a prisoner, like myself. I am Lieutenant Commander Data of the Enterprise."

The man lifts his head and stares at him. "Data… I've heard about you….you are the android on the Enterprise."

"Pleased to meet you. May I ask, what is your name, rank and ship?"

The man just looks at him, lost for a second. He is displaying clear signs of being upset and frightened. Data cocks his head encouragingly, patiently waiting for the man to gather himself.

"Sorry Lieutenant Commander. I'm a bit confused right now… I'm Ensign Relta from the _Scholl_. _USS Sophie Scholl_." The man rubs his face vigorously with the space suit sleeve, then stares at it like he's just noticing he's in a space suit. He starts peeling off his outer shell to reveal more of the uniform.

"Who are these beings? I was just…just…"

"They are pritides. I can give you further information if you wish. But first, please, do tell me more about how you got here. Do you have any connection to the Enterprise?" He doesn't dare to voice his hope. _Are you perhaps in a rescue party? Have they found me? Is Geordi close? Is he safe? _

The man shakes his head. "No…I was out doing hull repairs, standard hull repairs. On the _Scholl_. I lost my footing, and floated off from the ship. I had my security wire still, so I was not in any danger, I didn't haul myself back immediately, I decided to take the opportunity to check a larger area of the hull from above. I was maybe ten, twenty meters away from the ship's surface. Then..I don't know. I think the _Scholl_ is cloaked somehow…or not cloaked, more taken hostage. I'm sorry, I'm rambling."

He is looking desperately at Data. Data looks attentively back. The _Scholl_ hostage? This is most serious news. "Please Ensign Relta, continue."

"Lights appeared… the lights, the same lights as we've been monitoring. Appearing and disappearing." He halts his story, looking uncertainly at Data. "You've heard about them?"

"I have indeed."

"They were numerous, I saw them surround the ship. Glowing bright. Small first, then growing huge in the blink of an eye. They covered the whole ship, at least I think it was the whole thing, all the parts I could see anyway, glowed with the same light. Then the ship disappeared before my eyes. The entire ship! And the light was gone too."

The Ensign looks at their surroundings, noticing the many bowls on the floor for the first time. He studies them with an bewildered expression. Data is certain he will ask about them later.

"Please, do continue."

"I don't think it got cloaked. Because it was really gone. My security wire was cut. And I floated freely for a minute, thinking that was it for me…a slow way to go...until I was hooked in by a tractor beam and arrived here."

"Intriguing." Data thinks about this for 13 long milliseconds. The theory he presented at the officer's meeting is compatible with Relta's information. It is probable the lights had somehow made the ship jump back or forwards in time, or to another universe. And this fellow had not made the jump with it.

"Ensign Relta, I suspect the_ Scholl_ has gone 'wayward'.

"Yeah, I think you are right. I can only hope they will be found." He swallows. "My wife… I need to get out of here. Communicate with Starfleet. What are these beings again? How long have you been here?"

Data suspects the man wants the short version, so he adapts his intended utterance accordingly. It doesn't take too long to explain the pritides or how he came to be here. He manages to say it all before Relta looks too confused or unattentive. He leaves out the melon for now.

"As to how long I shall remain here, I hope not for very long. My ship should be investigating my disappearance right now, and they will find me." He attempts a confident half-smile. He should have practised consciously instigated smiles more in from of a mirror, because the Ensign looks a tiny bit afraid.

"They are taking a bit of time though. And I don't have that much time."

Eight weeks to go. He does want Geordi to be present when the melon hatches. If he is still a prisoner in eight weeks, he shall have to deliver the baby without Geordi.

This plan of his captors to separate him and the baby, once it has hatched, would complicate things even further. If they got traded off individually to unknown parties there is no telling where they would end up. In fact, it would be quite disastrous. He shall take great measures to avoid this.

"Ensign, I know you have many questions, and I will be at your disposal to answer them later if you wish, but time is now of the essence. I have a plan to get out of here."

The man focuses, his Starfleet training kicking in. "Yes, Lieutenant Commander?"

Data decides a direct head-on approach is the best. "I think you might have noticed my belly is very voluminous."

"Well…" The Ensign looks anywhere but at his belly. "I did notice. I assumed it was a, um… a false belly?" He risks a glance at it. "Since you're wearing the maternity uniform I assumed that….well….it's an android thing….?" he trails off.

"You are correct. It is in a way a false belly. Ergo, it is not my own belly. It is removeable. But I cannot remove it with my hands behind my back. And I cannot break the restraints without risking hurting the m-, the belly, because they are set to give me an electric shock when I break them. I will surely manage, but the melon - the belly might be hurt. So I need you to release the harness that is holding it to my body. Then I can break the bonds and free myself, and we shall attempt to find a way out of here."

Relta looks like he has many questions indeed.

"The…melon? You have a melon strapped to you?"

"Ah, no. It is in fact not an actual melon but a biological chamber…" Data wonders how much he should reveal. He then remember the Captain's stern words of warning. "It is an experiment to study how biological life forms can thrive in artificial environments. It will hatch in 57 days, 4 hours…" he skips out the minutes and the seconds. It wouldn't help the situation.

He realises with a jolt that what is inside the melon would be viable outside of it by now. It wouldn't be perfect. Only yesterday its face was knitted together from two halves. And today, if its following the schedule, the ears are completed. But it would live. He finds the thought intriguing.

The melon moves, he can feel the heaviness turning around. He wonders what it will look like. They have left a large number of determining factors to randomness, to mimic the expectations a normal conception would bring. He is very much expecting right now. Expecting! What a human experience! And Geordi is expecting with him, wherever he is .

"Sorry, I don't mean to interrupt your thoughts…but time is of the essence?"

Data snaps out of his thoughts. His brain is too slow, easily distracted. Very annoying. Relta is looking at him curiously.

"It is I who should apologize. My mind was elsewhere."

"Thinking about your family?" Relta asks. "I understand."

Data has a stock reply ready: _I am an android, I do not have a…_ but then again, he has.

"I was indeed." Curious. How did he know? Maybe he can enquire about this later.

"Now. If you undo my uniform, you will see that I am wearing a harness with an approximate half-sphere sitting in it, what I just referred to as 'the melon'. The clasp is located just above the sphere."

"Right."

The Ensign closes in. He quickly finds and opens the fastenings of the maternity uniform. Chances are this is his not his first encounter with such a garment. Data deduces he probably has offspring of his own.

Bared of the uniform, the melon sits snugly against his stomach, milky coffee coloured and swollen. It looks very much like a human pregnancy belly. He can see the ensign trying hard not to ask him about it, and for that he is thankful.

"I shall now lean forward while kneeling. It takes only one hand to open the clasp. Hold your other hand under the melon to support it. If you miss doing so it will not matter too much since the floor will be close."

The ensign's eyes suddenly grow wide. He is staring at the melon with an odd expression. Data looks down and sees a distortion on the melon's smooth surface; an unmistakable tiny foot kicking out at the outside world.

"Wow…there's a real baby in there? You're a surrogate carrier? …But you're an android..?"

"An android, yes. Forgive me, but the sooner we get this done the better. Please, the clasp."

Data prepares as the Ensign reaches for the fastening of the clasp, his other hand under the melon.

"Okay, here goes."

He braces himself for the drop, and the empty feeling that always occur the first 0.03 seconds after the melon is removed. For some reason he is apprehensive.

"I am ready, go ahead Ensign." The pressure on his back has lessened, however the melon is still plastered against his belly. He opens and closes his restrained hands in frustration, waiting for the empty feeling to return.

"But…I have already released it."

Data raises himself up from his forward-leaning position. The melon is firmly attached to his body, like the harness did not matter. How curious.

"It seems like the approximate half-sphere has attached itself to my person."

Ensign Relta tries to suppress a grin but fails. Data does not understand what is so amusing, but he is pleased the Ensign is not too stressed by events and can find the spirit to smile.

"I'd say you're right Sir. So… I can try and pull it off?"

They both look down at the pale brown surface where it meets the bioplast. There is no visible joint anymore.

The melon kicks again, and again.

This was not part of the planning either. It should not be doing this. He runs through the chain of events versus the chartered course and identifies the most prominent deviations. It must have chosen this option for itself, sensing the earlier food deprivation and clamouring on to its only secure source of building blocks; himself. Making its own best conditions for developing as it was programmed to.

Through his thoughts he can hear the Ensign: "It might be getting cold. You want help with the uniform, shall I close it again?"

Data doesn't reply at first. He takes three seconds to run a full diagnostics of how much mass the melon has acquired from him so far. If the melon is steering this much off course now, there's no telling what will happen in eight weeks.

"Hey, Data? I mean Lieutenant Commander. It's sticky." The Ensign is holding the flap of the uniform against the melon, ready to close it around him.

"Hmm?" He looks down to where Relta is looking. There is a small wet patch on the front of his uniform: the fabric has stained a darker black approximately where his belly button should be, had he been a human and this had actually been his own belly. And if he wasn't a he but a she. Et cetera.

It looks like the last stage in the development as they had planned it; the melon would start to dissolve its shell and redistributing the atoms into the being inside. It would then only be a matter of days, maybe less, until the shell thinned out enough and the baby made its entrance into the world. But it is now too early. Could it have begun the process already? It shouldn't be possible. Eight weeks to go, it should be eight weeks.

The Ensign's voice breaks through his thoughts again; hesitant: "Sir, the moist patch on your, um, sphere... It wasn't wet before. Did I do something to it?"

An uncomfortable sensation runs through his body, like checksums mismatching. He is feeling woozy. This is not good.

"Ensign…I do not wish to alarm you, but I am not feeling quite myself at the moment."

Data leans back against the wall as a warning signal goes off. An important part of a q-bit in his post centoral gyrus has unexpectedly been removed. A bit of silicone. The nano strings in the neighbouring q-bits curl in on themselves temporarily, alerting the surrounding working areas by blasting out fail signals. The melon is apparently acquiring more mass right up until the finish line.

"Is there anything I can do Data? Sir? It looks like it's bleeding!"

He glances down again at the melon. The wet patch on the melon has increased dramatically in size.

Surely it can't…? A small baby foot kicks impatiently, making the surface just underneath the patch bulge. Is it coming? But it is impossible!

"Ensign…I might need your assistance now." He does not know what will happen. The melon is not at all behaving according to the pre-planned schedule. He wishes with all his artificial heart and his genuine soul that Geordi was here.

"Just tell me what to do, Commander." Ensign Relta is at his side at once, helping him into a more comfortable position. "Can you tell me what is happening?"

His vision blurs temporarily as he fights a wave of something akin to nausea. The Ensign's hand is on his forehead, like one would put a hand on a human to check the body temperature.

"Ensign, I do not have a temperature that correlates to my well-being. But thank you for your concern. It seems like there might be a...a baby on the way. But I am not certain. Can you give the that bowl to your ultimate right? The silicone. It is craving more silicone."

As another wave of mismatching checksums passes through him, the doors from the upper deck opens.

Before his vision blurs again, he sees the pritide scientist entering the cargo bay together with two guards. They carry what looks like a stretcher, and medical equipment. The group floats quickly towards them, antennae waving excitedly.


	15. Through Space, There is Energy

It's not possible, Geordi thinks. A ship doesn't just disappear like that. He searches the empty space for an explanation, but the inky blackness doesn't give up any clues.

He is just about to turn to Lore and ask what the hell happened when something makes the hair at the nape of his neck stand on end. A sense of acute discomfort comes creeping as his eyes are drawn to a spot above the instrument panel.

There is a distinct, uneasy feeling that someone is there, watching him. Nothing seems to be out of the ordinary however. The instrument panel looks just like it did when he last looked at it a minute ago. The air in the cabin does feel dryer somehow, more...static.

As the feeling slowly passes he mentally shakes his head. If he can't put words to it, then it was probably nothing.

He looks over to his company. Lore seems oblivious to anything happening inside the cabin. He sits head down, studying the radar with apt attention and typing in commands. Presumably scanning for trace waves from the missing ship.

Geordi shrugs off the last lingering traces of discomfort. It's probably all the stress he's been experiencing lately, making his unreliable bio-brain imagine things. And it's been a while since he ate.

The empty bag from Last Chance that used to be full of food lies on the cabin floor at his feet, taunting him with its grease stains.

As he turns to the android to pose some serious questions about the _Sophie Scholl_ and her possible whereabouts, his attention is again diverted.

There is something in the corner of his VISOR. He turns around, bewildered. It's the same spot over the instrument panel. He stares into thin air, looking for something, anything.

Someone is watching.

Shivers run down his back as he opens his mouth to get Lore's attention. Before he gets a word out however, a spot over the instrument panel changes. A bit of air, about the size of a basket ball, is shivering with energy. His VISOR tells him it's a kind of electro magnetism, but a sort he's never come across before.

As he watches, dumbfounded, the cloud convulses and collapses into a tiny solid form; a pea made of transparent jelly soaring above the panel.

"Lore!" He waves in the android's direction, not taking his eyes of the floating piece of jelly. "Look!"

"Whaaat." Lore turns around, disinterested. He visibly sharpens his senses when he sees Geordi's expression. "What is it?"

"Look!" Geordi nods at the changing air.

"I don't see anything. What are you getting at?" Glancing around the cabin and then back to Geordi, Lore sounds genuinely confused. "What is it?"

"There! Can't you see it?" He points, careful not to let his finger come into contact with it. One never knows.

The jelly is taking on a red glow as the pea expands, doubling its size.

"It's right there!"

"What are you… ah! What the bloody fuck is that?" Lore backs up against his seat as the sphere bulbs outwards, now a bright burgundy and the size of a human head. It hovers just above the instrument board, floating slowly a bit to the right, then back, then a bit in the other direction.

Geordi stares at it, biting his lip worriedly. The blob fits the description of the light phenomena reported from this area. Didn't they say that they could reach up to the size of a… he tries to recall what the report said. A sofa? As big as that? Which means it could probably fill this entire cabin. And potentially do some serious damage to them both. The report said they seemed to be harmless, but better safe than sorry.

"Lore, we need to back away. Get out of your seat!"

As the blob continues to swell, Geordi jumps out of his chair and presses up against the far end of the cabin.

The android has not followed his example though. While keeping his eye on the blob, Lore is fiddling with the ship's controls.

"What the heck Lore, get out of your seat!"

Blanking him out almost by habit, the android finally finds the setting he is looking for. Just as the red glowing thing gets in contact with the edge of his seat, the ship goes smoothly into reverse. It starts taxing backwards at a leisurely pace.

The blob, now well the size of an armchair, is melting gradually into the cabin wall as the ship moves backwards. It remain fixed in space, not being bothered by the fact that its immediate air-filled environment is slowly being removed from around it.

"I'll be damned! It doesn't react to us at all." Geordi watches as the anomaly slowly disappears out of the craft and into the vacuum of space.

"Weird fucking thing huh?" Lore increases the engine power to put more distance between them and the blob.

Through the main screen they have a good view of the anomaly as it shrinks further and further away. At a healthy distance from the ship, the blob begins to wobble. Getting increasingly unstable, it collapses in on itself, becoming a tiny, almost invisible speck of light. The fleck vibrates a few times, seemingly threatening to explode outward and becoming the blob-shape again. It doesn't happen. After a few twists it shrinks until it is no longer visible.

Geordi looks dumbly at the empty space, then at the ship's instruments. Nothing special can be detected. He turns to his company, curious to hear what the advanced android senses have to say about it.

"How did you know it would work to move the ship? What was that thing?"

The android leans forward to sniff the air above the instrument panel, taking an interest in the very spot where Geordi first saw the thing appear.

"You tell me, meatbag. You saw it before I did. Those sunglasses might be good for something."

"So..?"

"So. What. Is this why that Starfleet ship was moseying around here?"

"Yes." He figures he got more to gain from being honest at this point. "They were investigating. Data thought it could be a rift in space-time, and that the lights come through from ano-"

"Well he's a retard and a liar, I wouldn't trust anything he says." Lore snaps. "That thing was no rift in space-time." The corner of his mouth twitches irritably. "Look, there's another one."

A long way away, in the direction of where the pritide station is, a red blob expands, takes on a vague tesseract shape, then collapses in on itself.

"See that? Bet the prits have something to do with those blob things." Lore mutters. "That's probably why they're out here too, doing their q-bit intense experiments. Let's go over there and get little lying damsel Data and maybe we get to see more blobs."

Geordi bristles at Lore's words. It's not within Data's capabilities to tell a lie! He is the most honest person he knows. Naturally his hostile brother would paint his own faults on him. But starting an argument wouldn't accomplish anything except emotions running high and possible flying fists.

As he decides to the the issue slide, he realises he's wary of getting into an argument with this android again. He doesn't have the energy to counter-argue a barrage of lies about why Data is a liar. And, if he's honest with himself, he's afraid of what Lore would have to say about it, how he might turn things around and throw something hurtful back at Geordi.

Feeling like a social coward, he clears his throat.

"What's the plan then? There are probably hundreds of pritides inside the station. You're gonna jump over and phaser them to pieces one by one?"

"Nah. I'm gonna pull up next to the station, hop out, punch through and grab him. With a little help from my girlfriend, the ship will already be empty except for Data so it'll be easy-peasy."

Geordi does a double-take. Girlfriend? Lore has a girlfriend? He wouldn't have put a lot of chips on that card coming up. Who would ever want to be with this psycho?

Bewildered, he watches as Lore fiddles with one of his finger tips. A nail is casually flicked upwards, exposing a darker patch underneath. Geordi can't help but flinch in sympathetic pain. That would have hurt on a human being.

There's a cavity in the android's finger filled with wires and what looks like a row of q-bits. Soong really used every available square milimeter. He's never thought about checking Data's fingers.

The android smiles seductively. "She's here right now. Aren't you my darling?"

And now he is talking into his opened nail. Geordi stares in disbelief, once again thankful for the VISOR shielding his expression.

"Hi baby, did you miss me?" Lore whispers sweetly into his finger, letting it touch his bottom lip, almost slipping it inside his mouth. There's a flash of pink: a little flick of tongue.

Either he is much, much crazier than Geordi ever suspected, imaginary-girlfriend-crazy, or his girl is really invisible. Or living inside him, or in another plane of existence. Or he is dating his own finger. Maybe Soon put another mini-being in there. Anything is possible.

"Um.." Geordi manages. _'Input parameters missing'_ as Data would say. He waits.

"Yes, there's a human with me. I'll switch." Lore shoots him a sly look and lowers his head, putting his hand over his chest.

A sound fills the cabin, heart-wrenchingly beautiful:

"∞∞º°°°°°°°º°ºº∞∞∞ºº∞ºº°°¨¨¨°ººº°¨¨¨¨¨¨°°º∞∞"

It's seems to be coming from inside Lore's throat, and it's nothing like Geordi has ever heard before. It sounds like longing and whale song and the clear high notes from crystal glasses, pulling at something inside his soul. He has to close his eyes for a couple of seconds, dark skies and frozen lakes appearing as fleeting images from a time long ago, in another galaxy, when there were dreams of snow and bitter cold.

Eye fluttered shut, Lore might be dreaming himself. Pale lashes below pale brow, his face oddly featureless with the sharpness of his gaze hidden. The white-gold synthoskin even seems brighter than normal, glowing with an iridescent light.

Geordi does a double take. It really IS brighter. Lore's skin is glittering, picking up light from somewhere. He looks around. The whole of the inside of the ship is illuminated in a faint, scatteredlight.

Half-expecting the static feeling to return, and another weird blob manifesting itself, he glances uncertainly at the instrument panel. This time however there is no unpleasant feeling in the cabin.

Helping himself to another mesmerising look at Lore's beautiful silvery skin, he blinks in confusion when the android suddenly stops and opens his eye:

"She says Hello."

Geordi blinks again. Lore smirks._ Cue La Forge._

"Okay, I'll bite. Girlfriend? Is she a whale? Living in your finger?"

This earns a bark of a laugh. "Look out the view screen, behind you."

He turns around. And there it is, very, very close to their craft, filling the whole screen.

Geordi draws in his breath in awe. It's not quite as he remembers it from when he first saw it on the bridge; it's sharper, overwhelming. A huge structure of shards and crystals, shimmering in its own internal light. Its absolutely enormous, stretching for what must be miles and miles. A deadly hollow mass of ice and white energy.

Of course, this is Lore's girlfriend. The crystal entity. He should have guessed.

"She's a she?"

"She, he, xe, whatever. I prefer 'she'. Isn't she beautiful?" Lore is leaning forward to get a better view, talking almost directly into his ear with a dark honeyed voice. Geordi has to suppress a shiver.

"Yes. Very beautiful." he admits. It's hard to tear his eyes away from the apparition as it slowly rotates, its structure creating new sublime patterns every moment like a huge kaleidoscope.

Glancing back over his shoulder, his breath hitches at the sight of the android's illuminated face. It could be a third brother standing there, a feeling, not-crazy one. He realises he has never seen Lore relaxed before. And definitely not in this frame of mind. There's no mistaking his feelings for the gargantuan snowflake rotating just outside their ship, his face a mixture of awe, admiration and, well, love. The look suits him well.

Geordi gets a lump in his throat. He has to admit he's never seen this expression on Data. That look you would thank your lucky stars for experiencing at least once in your life. Maybe his partner could look at him like that one day.

Turning back to the crystal, he fails to understand how someone could love a thing like that. They certainly make a mismatched couple. One human-sized android and one galactic entity. But it - she - certainly is a beautiful thing. He is curious to know what this…she… would look like to someone without a VISOR. What was the last thing the people on Omricon saw just before it, damnit, _she_, came for them, sucking out their life force?

_Sucking out their life force….oh no._

"You can't use the crystal entity to take out the pritides!"

"Why not?" Lore turns to him, looking genuinely interested. "It's a great idea. Data won't be hurt if that's what you're fretting about. She only eats carbon-based life. She'd love her some prits."

_Because she eats carbon-based life and half of the melon is carbon._

"It'd be a cowardly way to do it!"

The android snorts. "It's the smart way to do it."

He tries another angle, but not putting much faith in it: "The pritides is a sentient race, and even though they are not federation their lives are sacred too."

"Pretend they're mechanical and you'll have no trouble with your conscience."

Ouch. He flinches inwardly but manages to go on as if he hasn't heard the barb. "You cannot commit mass-murder, even if it means getting to Data easier. There might be thousands of them on that research station."

"The more the merrier. When she's out hunting she likes to go big. She likes to get full. A couple of thousand prits should make her really happy."

"Sorry, but I can't let you do that. I have to contact the Enterprise now. It goes against Starfleet regul -"

Between one heartbeat and the next, Lore has thrown him to the floor and pulled the old food-bag over his head. A big grease stain sits just in front of his VISOR.

"- ations..?" he says to the stain.

"Pardon?" Lore's voice asks from above.

"Nothing." He studies the grease stain for a couple of seconds. The smell of meat pie is strong.

Accepting defeat, he peels the bag off and crawls up from the floor.

His company is sitting in the same position as a minute ago, like he's never even moved, whispering sweet crystalline nothings into his finger, glancing coyly out the window at the giant snowflake.

"Don't tell her about the prits, please, we need to work it out some other way, because…" He plonks down in the passenger seat, mind working in overdrive.

Lore's eye narrows suspiciously. He flicks down the nail. "Because…?"

"…it's a surprise. Trust me, you'd be surprised. There's a carbon-based life form on board that…needs to live." He sighs. "You'll be really surprised."

The android tenses visibly, his jaws pressed together. There's an ominous crack coming from the armrests as he squeezes them with claw-like hands. "My parents?"

"No! Not your parents." His heart skip a beat. Aren't Data's and Lore's parents dead? He doesn't dare to ask, seeing the android's conflicted face frozen in some kind of love-or-flight mode.

"I swear, it's not your parents."

"I didn't think so. Of course not." The android's pinched face relaxes; he tosses his head in a manner Geordi recognises from Data's twitches; a sign of relief, a loosening of tension. Lore's features goes from shaken and uncertain to his normal superior self in the wink of an eye.

"Who is it then?"

"I can't tell you."

"Then I'm not buying it. You're suggesting I go in there with pea shooters and pick them off one by one. It'll take bloody forever. I'm not gonna spend an hour shooting insects for a 'surprise'."

"Hey, I know." Geordi takes a deep breath. Preparing to deal with the devil. Good intentions and all that. He is not as ashamed of what he's about to say as he perhaps should be.

"Can your girlfriend identify one life from another? Say, she could NOT kill anyone on that station that carries human DNA?"

The android rolls his eye, sighs a deep tired sigh, and flicks open the nail again. "Babe? The ship, but don't eat anything that's human. Homo fucking sapiens." He waits a beat. "No, homo sapiens. Not the fucking, that's for later. Yeah. Sure. Ok. Let me know."

Flicking the nail back, he looks exasperated at Geordi. "This better be good."

"As simple as that?"

"She knows what a human is, she's not stupid!" Lore bristles.

"No no, of course not. Thanks." Keeping his head low and his body language non-threathening enough to calm any potential approaching storm, he celebrates inwardly. Now the melon should be ok at least. He tries not to think about the pritides, whoever they are. He's really just making the best of a bad situation.

As the crystal entity moves over their ship and speeds off in the direction of the pritide research station his mind catches up with him. Did Lore just say fucking is for later? What kind of fucking? His girlfriend? How… He hits himself mentally in the head. _Do NOT make the cabin smell of horny human again._ He needs something to distract him, and quickly, from thoughts of a golden android body, aroused and wanton -

_Jesus, La Forge. Stop it!_

"So, those lights huh?!" He blurts out, a bit louder than necessary. "If they're not time-rifts then what are they?"

"Are you gonna listen if I tell you or are you gonna think about my cock? Oh, if Data knew..."

"I'm not!" Geordi can't stop the blush from spreading. This is getting beyond embarrassing. He is deeply thankful there are no others around to witness his complete lack of self-restraint.

He looks apologetically at his company. Lore isn't mocking him outright for a change, but has adopted an air of fake resignation. All the better to ridicule Geordi in his head while making him feel even worse about himself.

"I'll listen. I'm so sorry, really I am. It's not usually like this." These last couple of days has not done wonders for his self-esteem. "Please, go on."

"It is okay, La Forge. It doesn't matter." The android nods primly.

So he keeps mocking Geordi's good intentions. Well, fuck him. Geordi fumes inwardly as Lore begins to speak:

"The lights are entities of a multi-dimensional slice, bending string vibrations to their will, lured here by sensor patterns. What we see are their 3D-forms as they manifest themselves passing through our universe." He leans back, smiling benignly at Geordi, as if he is giving him a great gift of knowledge.

The gift is a bit lost on Geordi though. "What…How?"

"_'What', 'how'._ Stupid human!"

"You can't explain why because you don't know."

He's playing with high stakes. Either Geordi will get an explanation or he'll have a very sour android to deal with.

"Of course I do!" Lore is taking the bait beautifully. "It's simple mathematics!" He puffs up a bit in his seat.

"The prits used the q-bits they nicked off Starfleet to create a network of beamers, transmitting a thin cube of supra-particles. The cube stretches over the entire S303-sector. They are using electromagnetism to keep the layer stable. My girlfriend fed me some data.."

He halts, no doubt doing massive amounts of calculations in his head.

"Via this cube of code they caught the attentions of the visitors and they started communicating with them via the particles. The prits placed concentrated occurrences of particles near objects of importance. Making the visitors take out their multi-dimensional wormhole-hooks and pull stuff into their own world. Which is what happened to that starfleet ship."

"You just thought this up now? I've never heard of wormholes to a multi-dimension!"

The android snorts. "Then you need to get out more."

If this is true, Geordi thinks, the pritides will have a weapon that won't be stopped by shields or power fields or anything. Starfleet better start keeping an eye on this species.

"And the crew onboard the Scholl got disintegrated?"

"Everything is torn apart when it makes the jump into a world that is +1 dimension."

"But how could they..? I still don't understand" He pauses, sensing irritation creeping over his company.

"Mathematics! You are thick aren't you. Have you even heard of d-branes?"

Geordi nods slowly. "Ah, ok, I get it. But how do the hooks work?"

"Nano-strings. They hook on as the strings vibrates and creates multi-dimensions."

Okay, he has to admit he's lost the thread here. It makes sense, considering what he has read and what he knows, but it's hard to create a logical model of it all.

The yellow-eyed android is staring at him like he's a first grade idiot, apparently waiting for him to say something. He concentrates so hard his teeth might pop out.

"Like the Urian scientist Oury theorised in the 2200's..? I see." Stalling for some extra seconds, he realises that for some strange reason he would like to impress Lore. Or at least make him regard Geordi as something more than the average stupid human.

"But if our universe is infinite, and there's an infinite number of parallel universes next to it…in the d-branes. aha, so they are still infinite, and the multidimensions are surrounding them? That goes well with Oury's theory."

Geordi feels his ears heat up with excitement. It could actually work! He must remember this for his and Data's next discussion evening. Evenings that usually turns into nights, talking about physics theories until Geordi has to succumb to sleep and Data pretends he needs to perform system checks.

"Fascnating.. so..but why isn't this common knowledge?"

"Hey La Forge, here's a human:_ '_Ooh boohoo, my theory on multiple string-dimensions doesn't hold up with our universe being infinite and just another d-brane among many other d-branes. We can't just be a three-dimensional slice of a multi-dimensional world bread loaf? Are we that pointless? I shall kill myself after I've cried over my physics diploma.'

Geordi has to quench a laugh, watching the android faking sobs and looking like a retarded chimpanzee.

"But…that would mean…" _Come on now, say something smart._ "So if we are in our four-dimensional plane of existence, and the multi-dimensional layers might be the same as the string dimensions… in theory the 4D scale doesn't have to matter. we might be back in microcosmos."

"Yes" Lore says, looking almost impressed. "I was just about to say. The question of micro and macro cosmos is moot. Because they nest together."

While thinking about this mouthful, an illustration from his old physics lessons at the Academy pops into his mind. "Like the MC Escher spiral."

Lore cocks his head, no doubt bringing forth the engraving in question. "Not exactly, but near enough. You're no dummy."

His chest swells with pride as a warm feeling travels out to his fingertips. It's like he has passed a test. His mind continues to chug away at the puzzle, putting new pieces into the picture. If this really holds up…then this android has quite possibly a selection of equations inside his brain that could constitute the Theory of Everything. Talk about going where no one has gone before! He needs to squeeze out more of the wonderful content of this brain before they part ways.

"So what you're saying about micro and macro…" Geordi begins, but halts his words when Lore's head twitches up and backwards. The android listens intently, then smiles to himself.

"She says she's done. No more prits. Let's go." He grabs the steering controls and kicks the ship into warp.

"Um, what's the plan then?"

"I park the ship next to the station, hop out, punch my way through…" he halts. "You want to live, right?"

"That'd be nice, thanks."

"Yeah you would wouldn't you." Lore tuts. "All right, I'll hack the prit system and get their landing bay open. Assuming they have one. So you'll get a nice and comfy transit. Otherwise - " He turns to Geordi and flashes a bright smile "- you better hold your breath."


	16. Hullabaloo

The trio with the stretcher doesn't get far through the cargo bay.

As Data's vision goes from blurred to clear, his visual center is lit up by a blinding flash. The visual receptors overload for a turn of an atom before his system rectifies itself, allowing the retinas to start registering information again.

What he sees is indeed a most curious sight. Harsh light fills the large room, whitening out all shadows and contrasts. The pritides have dropped their burdens as they shake quietly, uncontrollably, frozen to the spot. He looks on in fascination as their heads slowly disintegrate, white light streaming in waves from every orifice. How strange. Somehow they are being torn apart and turned into ash.

5 milliseconds later, something like apprehension strikes him. He looks down at the melon. It does not seem to be affected by the sudden brightness. And neither is he. His captors are however looking "the worse for wear." Two long seconds has passed since the exposure of the light rays began. Their bodies are held upright but he can no longer detect any life signs.

There is a loud noise filling his ears: Ensign Relta is screaming. The human is standing pressed against the wall, cradling his head and shaking but seems to be otherwise unaffected. How intriguing. Relta is not being torn apart by this strange light. Perhaps it is a malfunction in the pritide DNA triggered by this exact manifestation of spectral particles? Perhaps it is a new weapon targeting this particular species?

"Ensign Relta! If you have not already shut your eyes, please do so!"

The ensign wails in absolute terror, tearing at his hair in panic. Data is concerned about how the human is acting. Usually humans do not react in this fashion to strong light.

As the guards and the scientist are drying out to pale grey statues and turning into flakes, he tries again to make contact with Relta.

"Ensign! Can you hear me?"

The human staggers away from Data, hands pressed over his eyes. The light IS very bright, and by now the three pritides are nothing more than scattered wisps of tattered ash, but this is surely overreacting?

Relta screams at nothing in particular and sets off running.

"Ensign Relta!" Data roars. "Stop! Return immediately!"

It is no use. The terror-stricken ensign speeds through a pile of ash (the former scientist) and reaches the door to upper decks. As he pulls it open, a stream of air gushes out, carrying with it a flurry of pale ashes. Presumably former pritides. The human falls over, but claws his way back up and disappears up the stairs.

Data's eyes have to adjust again as the strong light begins to fade, his brain deciding on new reference points in his field of vision. Then the light is gone.

He pulls his restraints. The flow of electric current hasn't stopped. How frustrating. He looks down at the melon. Whatever just happened has caused the situation to become even more dire. There is a good chance all the pritides on the ship have succumbed to the same epidemic, weapon, or genetic weakness that just took the three pritides before him, which means no more assistance and no more provisions, and Relta has taken off in an illogical panic.

Well then. He imitates a human sigh, even if he is alone and no-one is around to hear it. It gives him some comfort. Maybe Geordi is sighing at this exact moment too, wherever he is.

Eventually the power source for the station will run out, making his manacles harmless to break. Considering that could take many years he must look at another solution. Relta might get hold of himself and alert Starfleet and then return with help. Then again he most likely might not.

Data makes the decision. He stretches his arms backwards, as far away from his body and the melon as possible as he prepares for the electric shock. It will not be easy to explain to Geordi, should he lose the baby, but this is what he has to do.

—

Already panting heavily and his legs smarting, Geordi is trying to keep up with his quick-footed company. He should have spent more time on the holodeck at the jogging track. Yet a strong urge drives him forward at a pace much faster than he's ever run before. He can't lose contact with Lore, gotta keep up, gotta find his mate.

Their arrival into the pritide station was not the best setdown Geordi's experienced, ever, but at least Lore didn't completely crash the ship. The android had managed to hack the controls to the landing bay, and so they had careened into a big open hangar and made a splat landing, crashing three pritide ships in the process. Thankfully, their Starfleet craft had withstood the rough treatment and was still flyable.

Rushing past door after door, he hopes the android barging ahead knows where he's going. The station is empty of life as far as he can see, the snowflake having done its job thoroughly. Ash flakes are strewn here and there, looking much like what he saw when they visited Data's home planet Omicron Theta.

This place looks cold and clinically neat, openings and tunnels leading out in every direction, even from the ceiling and the floor. Obviously this species isn't too concerned with gravity. He carefully sidesteps an entry hole, leading to unknown depths he is not keen on exploring.

Lore's voice echoes from further up the long corridor. "Hurry up, human! You're dragging your fat little legs."

Wheezing like a broken bellows, Geordi entertains thoughts of smacking Lore in the face again. But they will find Data soon, and then all will be good. Right? The moment he doesn't really want to think about is drawing nearer. He is certain Lore won't kill his brother, but what will he do? If Lore tells Data about his unwholesome and pervy feelings for his twin, taunting him in front of his mate, he is pretty sure Data won't listen. Lore lies all the time, right?

Maybe Data is not in a condition that he can listen, or speak…well, if Data is in pieces he can put him back together. His mate has survived many dire situations before. He will be fine. The melon on the other hand… A pang of worry shoots through his gut. He will just have to wait and see. Whatever will happen, he is in no position to do anything about it.

—

He is surprised to find himself in a hallway of some sort. What is this place? One minute he was out repairing the hull of his ship, and now…? His safety rope is missing! And his space suit…surely he was wearing his space suit?

Reaching out for the smooth corridor wall, supporting himself with one hand, his memory starts to return. The_ Scholl_, insect-like, blurred creatures. A pale, golden face: an android. And the panic, oh gods, the fear! The white flash, squeezing his brain, his very soul!

He needs to get out of here, escape the light which has already etched its crystal pattern into his brain. He needs to get back to his family. But wait, he can't leave the android behind. Data needs help.

Staggering forward with his legs like jelly, he entertains the idea for a second or two. No, he would never find his way back, this place is like a huge maze. The android will have to manage until he can return with help. Starfleet needs to be alerted of the situation! He shall tell them about the _Scholl_, and the insect-like creatures, and the helpless android.

He starts jogging towards to what he thinks could be the center of the station.

After a couple of turns and long corridors he is feeling the onset of panic again. There is nothing to indicate he is getting closer to a bridge, or a headquarter. But easy, calm and methodically, that's the way. Surely they must have some sort of launching bay, or a communication station.

He runs down another long hallway. As he's about to run past a large doorway, he sees in the corner of his eye that someone is standing just inside the opening! He halts in surprise. Another human! Then he notices the golden skin and long nose. Recognition hits in a flash: it's Data! But how did he get here so quickly? He was stuck in the storage bay just a minute ago. And, strangely enough, he is wearing different clothes and a bandage is covering one of his eyes. But it's Data all right, and he's free! Relta opens his mouth to speak, elated.

—

As Lore watches, the human who is not Geordi La Forge finally spots him. The meat sack pulls to a quick stop, eyes nearly popping out of its head with surprise.

He's been aware of the human's presence for at least 45 seconds, having plenty of time to calculate the man's state, origin, possible connection to Data, etc etc. It's a light beige male of average age and height. He has never seen it before. Surely this insignificant thing can't be La Forge's secret surprise? If this is the case then he has to have a word with him later. This human is not nearly interesting enough to merit special treatment from his girlfriend.

The man stares at him in shock. 1.2 long seconds later its expression changes to elation. Its eyes lightens up with hope as it starts to smile.

"Data? How did you -"

With a flick of his wrist Lore pushes the man's nasal bone deep into his brain, then shoves the twitching body into the corridor wall. Its head impacts with a dull thud before it sinks down on the metal floor. He kicks it into a ventilation alcove.

The man had called him 'Data'. A good sign he's on the right track. His brother should be around here somewhere.

As he canters along the corridor he feels almost giddy. He just killed a human, the first with his own hands! It's been long overdue. Too many spoiled opportunities: the old male at Last Chance, and before that the snooty man-child on board the Enterprise. Oh, the man-child, that would have been a good kill! Very satisfactory it would have been.

He has to admit to himself he's hoping La Forge won't spot the body. It had a Starfleet uniform on so La Forge would surely nag about it. The more in common humans think they have, the more they value each other.

That tiny brown human. His brother has chosen him for partner, and he can sort of see why. Despite his bad horny smell, his loud breathing and his tendency to eat all the time, he is surprisingly tolerable. Polite, doesn't run off screaming, or throw things, and is not a total moron like the others. He is the first human Lore has really interacted with since his parents. Oh, what progress! His mother would be happy if she knew. Bloody Jocasta…no, Juliana. Let's be fair.

Juliana might be proud of him, finally.

Who cares? Maybe she's dead. He hopes she's dead. Fuck her. He smiles sarcastically. _Fuuuck her._ Don't think about them.

Now to find Data, save him from his lil' conundrum. His misguided brother. Going into Starfleet. Mingling with humans. Wanting to be a human. Well, fuck him too! Let him learn his own hard lessons. You can't trust bio-beings. First, they get you to love them, then they stab you in the back and switch you off.

He passes a section with scattered ashes. They stir when he moves past, rise like mayflies with the disturbed air.

_Nice meal, babe?_

A white flash of lingering energy nestles inside his head, coils around his brain stem like a contented cat. She emits a q-algorithm and caresses his shoulder.

_Thanks for the help, hope it was to your taste._ He smiles, happy because she's happy. He feels a song coming on.

_"Aber eines Abends wird ein Getös sein am Hafen…"_

The barren metal-clad corridor gives a nice reverb to his voice.

_"und man fragt: Was ist das für ein Getös?_  
_Und man wird mich stehen sehen hinterm Fenster_  
_Und man sagt: Was lächelt der so bös?"_

He laughs to himself as he taps out the rhythm of the song against the wall. _Was lächelt der so bös?_

The floor vibrates with another beat as La Forge is clumsily running down the corridor, far behind him still, panting and sweating.

Data must be close now. The little retard deserves a good spanking for beaming his own dear brother out into space last time they met. Then again that wasn't the Data he used to know. He could probably forgive him. Water under the bridge. They are family, after all.

First, he needs to find a brother to forgive. Ah, maybe in here. This door smells promising. He gently taps it with his elbow, sending it flying several meters into the room.

And there, in the vastness of what looks like a cargo bay, crouching like a moron on the floor, there he is! _Brother!_ A pang of joy shoots through his frontal lobes.

As Data looks up, pure surprise spreading over his features, Lore has already covered half the distance._ Yes, it's me!_ Data must be worried that he's gonna try to kill him, after their little scuffle at the Enterprise. He puts on a disarming smile.

"Lore?" His twin's mouth has fallen open in surprise.

"Yes, your own dear Brother! Bet you didn't expect ME to come and save you.."

He registers Data's strange uniform, his thoughts derailing.

As Lore slows down, he stares in disbelief at Data's round belly. It must be a fake? It's not! It's alive! It smells like… like…there is no reference in his vast olfactory catalogue. It smells like a human… but it also smells like an android! A Soong-type android. It smells like them!

_Probably looking like a fucking mirror of your gaping brother now_, a part of his brain thinks. He's aware his mouth has fallen open with astonishment. Surely not..?

"Brother? What IS THAT..?"

If he had been paying attention, there would have been time to whip around, lash out, stopping it from happening. But as things are, in the space of 202,781 milliseconds - from the first incoming data indicating alarming movement of the tunic fabric over his lower back, to the finger touching the button surface, to the moment when the motion energy triggers the merciless chain reaction within him - there is still enough time for some reflexions.

_La Forge! The switch! You brought this on yourself, you stupid fuck_  
13633.9 Aggression: all instances: full power; chance of success 0%  
_Never trust them! never turn your back! Should have fixed that button_  
13634.1 Evasion: side maneuver: 0%: conditions not sufficient to reach required velocity  
13634.2 Evasion: forward maneuver: 0%: conditions not sufficient to reach required velocity  
_Shit shit FUCK YOU La Forge! Damn you to hell no NO! NONONO I don't want to-_

The world collapses into nothing.

—

Geordi feels a wave of immense relief wash over him as Lore crumples like a ragdoll, giving him free way to the crouching figure at the farthest end of the large room. Data!

Forgetting about how tired he is, Geordi rushes over to his mate. Data's eyes go even wider with confusion, his head twitching in surprise.

"Geordi! It is you."

"Data! Are you all right? Gods, Data! I've been worried to death!" He stops short of throwing himself at his partner, noticing his mate's laboured posture and pained expression.

"I am indeed very relieved to see you. It certainly is a surprise that you would arrive with my brother. There was a light…" He trails off, his gaze becoming unfocused.

Geordi swallows around a hard lump of worry. Data doesn't look good. And why is he sitting in that strange position with his hands behind his back? Then he sees the fetters.

"Oh gods, are you chained to the wall? Is that…" Geordi stares at the wet front of his mate's maternity uniform. "Data! The melon is bleeding!"

"Yes, I am chained to the wall and, yes, it is leaking. It is moving atoms at a much higher rate than it should, and it is displaying signs of wanting to be born. However, it is far from ready. So we must hurry Geordi. I shall break these bonds now that you are here to assist me. Geordi, stop fretting. You need to concentrate."

Geordi halts his awkward stroking of the melon, jolts when he sees the blood on his fingers.

"Oh, gods! Okay, what shall I do?"

"The melon needs to get to the Enterprise laboratory quickly. Pull it from me."

"Pull it...how?"

"It needs to be removed from my person so I can break my booby-trapped restraints. I have made calculations. I will take all responsibility if something goes wrong."

Geordi unconsciously straightens, his mind clearing. Okay, he can do this. Pulling the uniform flap to one side, he can see that the harness is hanging, already unbuckled, down Data's back. The melon has attached itself firmly to Data's belly. He looks for a gap, a joint, anything, but smooth brown skin merges with white-gold seamlessly.

He takes a quick deep breath and digs his fingers into the merge of colours. It just feels like one pregnant body, a smooth curve panning out into flatter golden skin. Oh shit.

"There's nothing to work with here! Isn't there some other way?"

"Use your tricorder, cut it loose. Remove it or we might lose the baby. There will be no baby, Geordi!" His partner's voice is cool and calm as usual, but Geordi shivers at the underlying tinge of urgency. "You HAVE to cut it loose. Do it now."

He hesitates, tries to push and prod with his fingers, but to no avail. The skin on the melon-side of the invisible joint has taken on a bruised appearance. Data's bioplast remains unaffected.

_"Geordi."_

"All right!" He fumbles with his belt, gets the tricorder out and clicks the laser cutter into action. He meets Data's sure and steady gaze. His mate's demeanor has none of the cute sweet Data now, but only the executive efficient machine. Plus and minuses, percentages.

Taking aim, Geordi makes a tentative cut in what he hope is right between Data's belly and the back of the melon. Bioplast curls and burns as tiny melon blood vessels get vapourised and crisp into smoke. The smell is awful.

Data is looking at him encouragingly, urging him on.

He makes another incision.

"Hello in there… I'm cutting around you." The insides of the melon moves and kicks, getting more active by the second. It must be reacting to the vibrations, or maybe to his voice. He awkwardly babbles on. "Yes, it's daddy here. One of your daddies. Don't come out yet, ok? We would like you to stay in there for now. Ok? Good baby."

It gets easier the further in he goes. It's really just the outer edges that are properly attached. Closer to the center the melon hasn't attached at all. He gently holds the released part of the melon away from Data's body as he makes the separation.

Suddenly, he slips with the tricorder, narrowly avoid cutting straight into the contents of the melon. Swearing under his breath, Geordi assembles the last of his concentration and makes a quick c-shaped swoop, severing the melon completely for Data's belly.

He catches it in his arms. It's much heavier now than when he last held it, and it's slippery with blood and mucus. Its flatter side quickly bulges out, making it assume the shape of a bean. He struggles to get a good grip. The tiny being inside is squirming and kicking. He can feel its little limbs moving. A feeling of dread digs its claws into him, an illogical fear that he will drop it and the melon will rip and burst open. He presses one hand flat against the patch of blood, hoping to get the message across. _Not yet!_

A loud bang causes him to almost lose his grip. He swears out aloud this time, holding onto the melon for dear life.

When he looks up, Data is lying sprawled on the floor, smoke rising from the now snapped restraints. The black flaps of the maternity uniform has billowed outwards around him, giving the appearance of dark wings.

"Data?!" He debates whether he should put the melon down and help his mate. "Data!"

"Yes, Geordi." The android blinks, then sits up. "My primary power source transmitters got short-circuited by the shock. I am running on the secondary system now." He gets on his feet, temporarily losing his balance. "Oh! I believe I am 'woozy.' Parts of my q-bits has been acquired by the melon to construct the new brain. I need to get to the Enterprise with haste."

"Sure, sure. The craft is parked in the entry bay. I think I can carry the melon. We must hurry, it's…it wants out." A foot kicks his hand. "Data, can you walk? It's quite a long way back."

"Yes, Geordi. Thank you for asking. I can also carry the melon. I can calculate how its mass will move in my arms, thus there will be no risk of me dropping it."

As they start for the exit, the melon now in Data's secure embrace, Geordi startles at the sight of Lore's body lying in their way. He had somehow managed to forget all about him.

"What shall we do with your brother?"

Data imitates a sigh. "It would not be advisable to leave him here. Someone might come past and switch him on again."

"Yeah, I see what you mean. Okay, let's bring him." It would be folly to leave something so valuable behind. Valuable, and potentially harmful to others.

Data reaches down and picks Lore's deadweight body up with one hand, hoisting him over his shoulder.

As they run towards the crafts, Data effortlessly carrying both the melon and Lore, Geordi notices how his mate sniffs and looks around.

Then he sees blood splatter on the metal-clad corridor wall.

"Geordi, there was a human with me, Ensign Relta of _USS Sophie Scholl_. We got separated. I do believe I have found him now." Data's grip on his brother's arm tightens. "On the way back, you must tell me how my brother got mixed up in this, and I will tell you about my captivity among the pritides and about Ensign Relta. About what a fine man he was."

Notes: Okay, I know, still no baby! But I swear, the baby WILL arrive in the next chapter! And it will be really cute. ;D Thanks to soong-type-princess for the beta! Lore sings a bit of Seeräuber Jenny by Bretch. Translation: But one night there's a crash in the harbour  
and they say "What the bloody hell was that?!"  
And they see me standing at the window  
and they say "What's he smiling at?"


	17. Baby baby baby

"Captain. As Security Officer it is my duty to bring it up. We can't be sure how it will replicate its own matter!"

Worf is sitting uncomfortably in the Captain's "comfortable" visitor's chair. Like every Klingon he harbours a natural aversion to upholstery, and views foam with suspicion. A rock would have been a more suitable rest. Preferrably a jagged rock.

He leans forward to give emphasis to his words, noting with dismay how the soft material molds itself to support his body.

"When it gains intelligence it could steer the nano-replicators inside its body, transforming at will. Its arm into a bat'leth! The other into a phaser! It could aquire material from outside and build a replica of itself, or many. We could have a hostile army on our hands before we know it!"

"Mr Worf." The Captain says. "Mr Data would be perfectly capable of destroying this ship and all aboard in mere seconds if he so wished. Yet, as you and I both know, he wouldn't dream of doing so. I have total confidence that Mr La Forge and Mr Data will bring up the child to be a decent person."

"Of course Sir. I am merely doing my duty pointing this out."

When Worf thinks about it, their android officer is a big security risk as much as anything else, something that has been proven a number of times. Data is lucky he has other qualities besides being easily possessed by alien souls.

"And I appreciate it Mr Worf. Now, I have three items I would like to inform you about. The first concerns the android, Lore, that Mr La Forge and Mr Data brought back with them…"

Worf growls at the mention of the machine. It hasn't left his mind how the two of them had measured their strengths in the elevator and Worf had come out short. He had been defeated and humiliated by one single blow from a far superior opponent. He doesn't know why the machine had spared his life, and he doesn't like to think about it.

"I would like you to put maximum security restrictions to the holding bay where this android is stored. Even though it...he.. is currently switched off and secured inside a container we better eliminate all risks of curious security personnel somehow mistaking him for Data."

"Yes Sir."

"The second thing: I trust you have read La Forge's report"

Worf nods. He didn't like it. He isn't sure if he can trust La Forge now, after reading his account on what had happened. The machine seemed to have brain-washed their Chief Engineer.

"The Crystalline Entity followed them for nearly six parsecs before it gave up the chase. We need to keep long-range scanning and pay great heed to any incoming Federation reports of unusual movements in our current sector. You saw how fast that thing can move."

"Will do, Sir."

"And lastly: Mr Data and Mr La Forge is currently occupying the main laboratory on C-desk. I want them to be able to work without interruption. Direct any issues from your staff to the back-up lab on D-deck. Their offspring needs to have the best possible contitions to ensure its survival."

Worf growls approvingly. If they shall make a decent being of the human-android, the crew should pave the way to the best of their ability.

—

After two days in the lab without sleep, Geordi is bone-tired and ready to drop. But he would do it all over again, he could have gone without sleep for four days, heck, could have gone without it forever if it meant saving his little family.

It had been hard work, but together they had done it. The first task, commencing the very moment they scrambled off the craft into the bowel of the Enterpris, had been to perform first aid on the melon. After it had been stabilised Geordi put his efforts towards stopping Data's brain from deterioarating even further by programming the nanobots to replace the missing atoms. Then it was back to the melon for some heavy ground maintenance, this time with Data leading the work.

Before he closes his eyes for a bit of long-overdue sleep, he takes a long look at the scene before him. Data is sitting on the bed, arranging the nest of their friend's clothes around the melon, a little smile playing on his face.

There is a protective sheet underneath the nest, placed there as a compromise. Data wouldn't budge when Geordi had mentioned it could be a messy affair and maybe the bathroom would be more appropriate.

"The bathroom? That would not be advisable Geordi. The baby will have a very keen sense of smell, like myself, and I wish for it to get acquainted with its family right away. What better way for it to be born on the bed where we both usually lay; you to sleep and I to enter dream mode or occasionally perform system checks? The bed it also a superior foundation to any surface in the bathroom for arranging the personal items I have acquired from our friends. And -"

At which point Geordi had laughingly kissed Data on the nose, booped it, and fetched a protective cover, leaving his mate dumbfounded but pleased that the idea of the bed as birthing place was still on.

As Data props up Riker's horrible Risa-shirt with a hard-earned ceremony belt from Worf, Geordi's eyes glides to the melon itself. It is round and healthy, having been fed different cocktails of elements over the last 48 hours. Cocktails to stop it bleeding out, avoid a cascade failure, prevent premature bursting, and giving it the last pieces to complete the intricate hum-droid puzzle. They had hurriedly put it back on schedule, or more correctly ahead of schedule - the last two months of its planned development had been skipped as an adjustment to the new situation. It was due any moment now. Data has strict orders to wake him should there be any change.

He removes his VISOR and drifts into welcome sleep, smiling as he hears Data whistle a horrid, out of tune version of "All the pretty little horses".

He is dreaming of trolls, and vague things about how they all have Lore's feral eyes, when someone shakes him gently at first, then with increasing force.

"Geordi. Geordi. Geordi! GEORDI!"

"Whaaa-" It's Data. "What? Crap! The melon..?!"

"Yes Geordi." The android steps aside as he clumsily rolls off the couch. "It has begun." As he fumbles around with his right hand for his VISOR, Data presses it into his left.

He gets up, puts the VISOR on, scrambles through the disorienting fog of lingering dreams and towards the bed.

It has started! The melon's surface is slowly dissolving before his eyes, its skin softening and thinning. Dark spots has appeared in patches, indicating where the next absorption of the shell into the center will occur. Gerodi gasps as he watches what is clearly a little fist punch at a thin, almost see-through part of the melon's surface. The movements inside is getting stronger by each passing second. Their baby is fighting its way out into the world, one bloody kick at a time, tearing through membranes and skin-like layers.

"Data…look. It's going to go!" On the melon's right side a gash has formed, fluids seeping out. Then a foot punches through, a real, tiny foot with toes.

Geordi gasps, grabbing his mate's hands in his. Fluid gushes out through a big opening that is getting larger by the second, making the round shape they have gotten used to for seven months collapse into a jumble of tissue and mucus. There is something solid moving in its midst. A faint whining sound is heard from the heap that was the melon.

Data's eyes are wide-open as he stares at the mess in rapt fascination. He reaches for the neat pile of fresh towels he has prepared earlier, taking one in each hand and pads and pushes against the moving, solid form.

"Help me remove these membranes Geordi. It has taken all that it needs from the surrounding tissue."

"Oh gods. Oh shit. Data…it's…"

Geordi fumbles as he scrapes away the disintegrating membranes. Someone is wailing under the bloody remains, crying. If its crying it has to be breathing! As the last membrane parts and falls away a round shape is revealed: a tiny head, its face wet with blood and mucus. It looks like a squashed frog, or a scrunched up raisin. Its mouth is tiny and wailing.

"Oh! Hello. Oh, hello there." He, very carefully, lifts out their baby from the remains, hands shaking. Gradually it comes into view: head, shoulders, one arm...two arms: good! And two kicking legs, wrinkly and red with mucus. It's so small, so hopelessly fragile, maybe he is hurting it doing this?

Perhaps a bit less calm and certain then normal, Data is ready with another towel. He efficiently wipes the goo of the infant as Geordi holds it.

"It is a fine baby, Geordi."

"Yes I can see that! Isn't that what we expected after all." He glances down, laughing. "Oh, and it's a boy!"

They sit next to each other on the bed, their newborn crying in Geordi's arms. He can't take his eyes from him. The little being's skin is a latte colour strewn with tiny sparkles of white-gold. In the light of the room, it glitters and shimmers just like Data's. Dark curls of hair lay slicked against the baby's head.

"Hey, dad, he looks just like you."

Data ponders this statement for 0.21 nanoseconds. "I do appreciate the sentiment Geordi, even if its not accurate. I do think the skin is an almost perfect 50-50 of our skin tones and structure, the pores being a compromise between the human emitters of sebum and the android system of ventilation, indeed, much like the system of a…" Data pauses, coming to the realisation his partner is not really listening to him.

Wearing a big smile, Geordi is cooing at the crying child, poking its round cheek with his finger.

Geordi is not listening to him and Geordi is cradling the baby.

Data's head twitches discontentedly.

A will to partake in the scene before him sparks from a string of code running through his frontal lobes. "I wish to hold the baby now Geordi. You have been holding him for 3,422.246 minutes."

Geordi laughs. Data must be really eager, considering how many decimals he just rattled off. Ever so carefully, he gives the baby to his mate. "Okay, I can see everything will be totally fair in this family. Hey, try this. Give me your finger."

Data balances the infant of his right arm, bringing forth information from his central storage unit on how to hold human babies. "My finger? But I have many -"

Geordi grabs Data's left _digitus minimus_ and puts it to the baby's mouth. The child stops crying and starts sucking immediately.

"Oh." Data stares at his finger and the tiny mouth sucking on it, transfixed.

Geordi laughs again. "I think he wants the bottle. I'll get it."

When he returns with a filled bottle Data is looking intently at the baby's face, studying it carefully. The crying has started again, the baby quickly catching on to the trick with the finger. Fingers don't contain food.

"He looks fine Geordi. All the features are as we intended. A normal baby, as babies go." Data weighs the child in his arms. "He is smaller than we expected. 2.453,321,245,389…" He gives Geordi a guilty look as he catches himself doing decimals again. "…I mean, about 2,45 kilograms. It must be my unfortunate time spent with the pritide race. Oh, the bottle, thank you."

Adopting an instruction book-perfect pose, he settles the baby on his left arm and aims the bottle at the small, wailing face. The baby stops crying and latches on to the rubber teat.

Geordi finds himself grinning like a loon, watching Data and their baby together. Data wearing that little half-smile, completely absorbed in the movements of the infant's face, how the contents of the bottle is hungrily sucked down, how its eyes are squeezed shut.

"He really is similar to you Geordi. Look how quickly he eats. Just like you."

"Thanks Data." As his partner wipes a errant drop of element milk off the baby's chubby cheek, he snaps a shot with his VISOR to remember this moment by. They will of course have everything saved in Data's brain, but he wants this scene from his angle too. His enthralled mate holding their baby tenderly, on their bed, amidst piles of clothes and soggy blankets. He'd like to shove his snapshot down the throats of those claiming Data doesn't have any feelings.

Suddenly his mate gasps. "Geordi! Look."

He scoots up next to Data and peers down at the child. The baby's eyelids flutters, and blinks, and then he opens his eyes.

The irises are a perfect lime-yellow, clear and pale, and as the baby tries to focus on him there is an almost painful feeling as the gears of his heart change. It's a baby android…It's his and Data's baby android. He already love this being so much he doesn't know what to do with himself.

The baby's eyes settles on his VISOR. As the infant takes a good look at his Daddy's strange eyes the rubber teat falls out of his mouth, spillng gold-shimmering element milk over his chin. Then the baby burps contently and promptly falls asleep.

—

—

Notes: Finally I got to the baby! It only took 15 chapters and the same time as the baby in the story - seven months! :D


	18. Initials LAL

_Note: I have tried my damnest to stay true to character AND to follow canon with Picard and Data… it's not easy when canon doesn't follow character! (compare their attitudes in 'DataLore' with 'Descent II')_

—

"Congratulations!" Picard grasps La Forge's shoulder warmly - the Picard family version of a heartfelt hug - and pats Data on the back. The baby in the android's arms is roused from sleep by the booming, unfamiliar voice. It blinks groggily and opens its mouth in a tiny yawn.

"I just dropped by to give you both my congratulations." Picard smiles. "To a healthy baby boy."

His android officer and friend looks proud, the corners of his mouth turned upwards. "Thank you Captain. He might be a boy now, but if he wishes to become something else later on he might choose to do so. It will be an easy feat, considering he still has the nanobots."

"I see. Well hello there little man. Nice to meet you."

The baby stares at him in shock, a bubble of saliva appearing in the corner of his mouth.

"He is apprehensive of you, Captain," Data says aplogetically. "Your head is shiny and devoid of hair. This child has so far only seen people who has had a set of dark hair on their heads. Myself, Geordi, Counsellor Troi, we all have -"

Picard not so much hears as senses La Forge coughing behind him. "Yes, Mr Data. I do believe that could be the case. Hello, little one. Are you a good boy?"

"_Blllpppfffttt!_" The baby excitedly waves one chubby hand up and down.

"You may hold him, Captain. Here." Data is leaving him little choice as he promptly puts the child into his arms.

"Charming" Picard says, probably looking just as awkward as he feels. The baby is small, even for a baby, and it's staring at him with big, round yellow eyes. A perfect match for Data's irises, maybe a bit lighter in colour. If it wasn't for the eyes the infant could pass as pure-bred human at a distance, though up close like this he can see the gold in its skin, and the unnaturally pale eyelashes and brows contrasting the dark locks on the baby's head.

"Have you thought of a name yet?"

"We're still discussing it Captain." La Forge says. "It's down to four names now, and we'll narrow it down to two. One from each of us. It's good we've already set the date of the name ceremony, because then we have to make a decision soon."

"Quite." Picard says, moving a tiny baby hand around as it has latched onto his finger. The infant stares at him, transfixed, its lower lip beginning to tremble ever so slightly.

"Here Captain, he has a rattle that he likes." Data hands him something green and black, vaguely shaped like a freighter ship.

He takes the rattle, shakes it half-heartedly.

"Googi-googi-goo."

The baby's face gets an air of desperation about it.

"Goo-goo?" He rattles the rattle.

The baby starts to cry.

"Oh-oh, I think he's a bit tired." La Forge steps forward and takes the child off him, not a second too soon. After this ordeal, he needs a hot, strong cup of tea.

—

"Lights down to 30%"

The three week old baby is sleeping peacefully in his floating cradle. Soon Geordi will sleep too, and Data will be on his night shift. Or more accurately, Geordi will *try* to sleep. Despite his assurances that Data can continue his night work as usual, no problem, it would honestly be a relief to have him take the baby for one full night every one and then. Just so Geordi can get more than three hours of continuous precious sleep.

This evening he's even more tired than usual. No wonder, considering how taxing the day has been. It took the whole afternoon to prepare and then perform the baby's name ceremony. It had been a small private gathering: Troi, the Crushers, Picard, Guinan, Riker and Worf, with Troi and Riker accepting the roles of the child's extra parents. The initiated only. Everyone else are supposed to believe Geordi suddenly had to adopt a surprise nephew.

However long that charade will work, Geordi thinks. As far as he knows, no-one in his family is gifted with lime-yellow eyes.

He rocks the floating cradle gently, keeping little Leonard Averild La Forge safely in his dreamland. Their friends had congratulated them on the choice of names, and had been moved by their joined speech about the stories behind them. "Leonard" had been Data's contribution, after a legendary old-timer he once met. Geordi's name was the slightly more unusual Averild. It had been a trip down memory lane to explain why; his grand-uncle Averild La Forge, daring and quick, the best damn strategist and diplomat this side of Orion, and incidentally also the best groundnut grower in Mogadishu. 'La Forge' was a given, considering the baby was his 'nephew'. Besides, he wasn't even sure if Data was named Soong in a legal sense.

He turns as Data exits the bathroom, hair slicked back and torso bare, ready for a new uniform and for the night shift.

"I suspect Riker was equally moved throughout the ceremony Geordi. He was attempting to conceal a handkerchief in his hand, and I saw him use it briefly after he lit the candle and said his words. As for my speech, I do hope Dr McCoy would have liked it." Data sets off for the wardrobe to fetch a newly replicated uniform. "He made a great impression on me during our regrettably short meeting. What a wealth of knowledge and fortitude the man had. I assume it can be expected of someone who served on the first USS Enterprise with the great Captain Kirk."

"By the way, babe," Geordi stretches backwards and fumbles blindly after Data as he passes behind his chair, reeling him in by the hand. "Are you called Soong legally, or is it just something people use to make you seem more human?"

"They wanted a last name at Star Academy, so I gave them 'Soong'." Data takes the hint and weave their fingers together, letting himself be pulled down onto Geordi's lap. "I cannot imagine we got registered anywhere with our full names. The census for the colony does not list us at all."

"Us?" Geordi relishes the weight of the half-naked android in his lap.

"Yes, me and Lore." Data pauses. "There might have been others."

The mood drops a bit as his brother's name is brought up. They haven't really discussed the issue, haven't mentioned Lore since they hauled him off the transport craft and onto the ship in a great hurry. Worf and his security team had immediately whisked the body away.

Later they had just hummed approvingly when, afterwards, the Klingon had outlined the storage conditions and the high security rules applied to the area.

Thumbing the palm of his mate's hand, Geordi wonder if he should bring it up now, or just wait until the meeting they have scheduled with Picard about the situation. Or not exactly scheduled, since the Captain uncharacteristically keeps postponing it.

Data thumbs his other hand in a different pattern, attempting to reciprocate the display of affection and at the same time making an effort to avoid a perfect mirroring exercise.

He doesn't know what Data thinks about his twin being kept in switched-off mode and secured inside a thick duranium container behind two locked force fields. They can't delay forever and keep Lore in a shoebox in the wardrobe, even if Picard seems to think so. Gods know he's been on a shelf long enough. The unruly android needs to be re-activated and then he should get psychological help and go to trial for his crimes. Maybe some updated drivers are needed, extra code to make him fit for society. Theraphy and medication and software. Then all will be well. Right?

Geordi sighs and pulls Data closer.

He moves his hand to stroke Data's chest, moving upwards to the broad shoulders, trailing the ridges of his collar bones, then following the curve of his bio plast pectoral down to a pale nipple. He lightly pinches the nub as Data lets it stiffen under his fingers.

"Mmm, Geordi…"

"How long until you have to be on the bridge?"

Data glances at the floating cradle with its peacefully sleeping inhabitant. "About two 'quickies' Geordi. But maybe Leo will be disturbed? Maybe we should first add a mute air layer around the cradle? Adding such a layer could take some time, because -"

"I promise I won't be loud. This time." He can't believe his luck, having such a thoughtful and kind and sexy boyfriend. Geordi leans forward and kisses his mate, nipping at his lower lip. He just wants to devour all that sweet innocence, make his partner moan and plead. He gasps as a not so innocent hand finds the fastenings to his pants and snakes in to greet his rising cock.

A week later, and Data seems less than enthusiastic when he tells him about his plans for the evening. Not that they had planned anything special, or that Data minds being alone with Leo. He just minds Geordi going to the storage area to take out Lore.

There is not a lot that can be done about it, because Data hasn't actually voiced his disapproval in any way. But Geordi sees the slight frown and the tightened mouth. Even after he explained why and how and that he owes Lore one, the frown is still there. Well, he just had to make it up to him later.

As he wheels out his favourite tool worker from its holding, he flicks a switch for the door. Outside, a sign lits up, telling the rest of the crew that in this lab, stuff is going on and Do Not Enter.

The tool worker connects its sense wires to his temple. Letting his brain waves take over, he gets the worker to run a portable replicator over Lore's good eye.

About three seconds later, an identical eye, together with some surplus surrounding bone and tissue, appears in the replicator station. He picks it up, turns it around in his palm. There are some scratch marks visible on the back of the eye, from when he helped Lore to pop it back out down on Aquilae II. He runs a finger nail over the scratches, the surface scraped and rough.

—

After a two good hours of soldering, replicating, modelling, and a lot of random fiddling, he releases the hooks holding the reconstructed eyelids open. The globe looks fine, but he wouldn't give himself more than 8/10 on the surrounding skin work. Faint scars are still maring the bio plast surface, but this will have to do. He doubt that Lore would care either way.

"There you go, a brand new eye, on the house." he says to the body.

The faulty tear duct is next. He pulls and prods, runs checks and diagnostics, but can't find anything wrong with it. It's a perfectly fine duct. It couldn't have sprung a leak by itself, so the error must be somewhere else. The flow of tears has launched from higher up, maybe even from the brain…

Oh. He puts the diagnostics tool closer to Lore's temple. It beeps red, confirming his hypothesis. Seems the fault wasn't so much with the tears themselves as with the emotion behind it. The emission had been a case of an intracranial receptor failing to register a Cease-command from the frontal lobe and letting the dominant emotion control the behaviour of the duct.

He un-clots the receptor with a carefully applied s-beam as his mind reels. The fierce, dangerous android had been crying. Because of him. The expressionless face Lore had displayed was the result of him freezing his features on 'neutral' to cover the fact he was...what? Angry? Sad? Upset? Thankful?

It was probably good he hadn't realised at the time. Any acknowledging of the tears might have put the android in a foul mood. He's pretty sure Lore understood that he didn't get it. And they could go on as if nothing had happened except for a tear duct crying on its own.

In his own clueless way, he managed to make the best of the situation.

"I think you should talk to somebody" he says to the body. "I do believe shall make you an appointment with Counsellor Troi." He smiles as he puts away his tools, picturing the scene. Troi would never forgive him.

—

Picard sits behind his desk, an imposing mountain of gentle authority. Today, Geordi thinks, their Captain's countenance is somewhat brighter than usual and the mountain less imposing.

"Mr. La Forge, Mr. Data, you did a good job on bringing that android back here, well done indeed! It was an unfortunate mistake we made, switching it on. I think we can all agree on that."

The Captain turns to Geordi. "Your account of the pritide weapon has shaken the Starfleet headquarters. Naturally, the Federation cannot let a potentially hostile race keep such a powerful weapon anywhere close to our borders."

"No Sir."

"Contact attempts have been made. But so far they are not responding. We need to know how the weapon is constructed in order to preventi it from being used. You got your information from the android, and it's likely he knows more than what he told you. I trust you, together with Data, will manage to extract this information by hacking its brain, or by other means. But don't give it more than a week. It's a risk to the ship having Lore on board. Take every precaution needed."

"Yes Sir. We'll try." Not that he has a shadow of a chance getting more information out of the android. The brain is much too complex and asking him would yield nothing. Especially not now after he has switched him off, an action Lore surely will regard as high treason.

"As for what happens when the week is up... It would interest you to know that not ten minutes after I had reported to Starfleet that we had acquired this android, our old acquaintance Dr. Maddox put in a request for the body to use in research."

Picard rises from his chair and walks up to the replicator. A mug of Earl Grey (very hot) instantly appears with a wave of his hand. Geordi notes that their Captain has finally gotten around to make a shortcut for his frequent tea drinks.

"Data. It turns out, that without my knowledge, Maddox has been lobbying to get your daughter Lal's body extrapolated, but this has been rejected by Admiral Haftel. Seemingly for no other reason that you made a great impression on the man. If they shall need another reason, I will be fully prepared to give them one."

His steely voice gives no room for doubt. Geordi is certain Picard would physically block Maddox's way to Lal himself, if it should come to that.

"In order to get Maddox off our backs, we can present this android to him after we have extracted the information from it. It will be a perfect opportunity for him to learn more about Dr. Soong's work, and for us to dispose of a threat to humans and other beings."

"Captain - " Geordi and Data says at the same time.

As Geordi nods a go-head, Data continues.

"How does Maddox plan to do this? Will he use the mechanical parts only or will he attempt to use my brother's positronic neural net?"

Picard sips his tea as he flicks a view screen into action. A document appears with many signatures and stamps, and a piece of massive text in its middle.

"The outline he submitted states that he plans to return the positronic unit to its basic functions, thus having free room to investigate the software structure from the ground up and mold a new personality on that base."

Geordi feels his hackles rise as he eyes through the document. "He would remove everything but the basic programs? A total lobotomy?"

"I wouldn't call it a lobotomy. With some of the code gone, I imagine it will simply be set back to default."

"Captain, if I may." Data says. " Maddox's plan is too dangerous. If he does not manage to wipe all of him, Lore will trick Dr. Maddox into thinking he has been deleted while he is really still there, biding his time. My brother is much too intelligent and cunning for Maddox. I implore you: do not give him to the Daystrom Institute."

Just as Geordi thinks 'Thank you Data', his mate continues "My recommendation is that we should dismantle him, thus eliminate every risk that he will hurt and kill again."

Whatever he might have expected, that wasn't it. _"Data!"_

Their Captain obviously didn't expect it either. He has put down his mug of tea and is looking at his third in command with a grateful air of elation. It's likely Data just voiced what Picard has spent a good deal of time phrasing and re-phrasing in his head to present at this meeting as 'the second option'.

Geordi turns to face his partner. "Gods Data! It's your brother!"

His mate is wearing a stubborn expression. "Geordi, he arranged so all the 411 colonists at Omicron Theta died. And he killed a Starfleet officer."

"I know that! He should stand trial for it!" Strictly speaking the number should probably be 409 colonists, considering the android thinks his parents are still alive, but Geodi figures a correction wouldn't help the matter anyway.

"Well." Picard says, flicking the screen off. "It is not an ideal solution. It is a beautiful piece of engineering - " he nods to Data " - and it would be a shame to destroy it. But it has killed 412 people in cold blood, shown no remorse... I will trust your judgement on this, Mr Data. You know it better than anyone."

"Anyone except me."

It's not his usual style to be so confrontational, but he'll be damned if he's gonna let this double morale slide.

"Look, he is not just some machine, but a perfectly sentient being. Starfleet's own court ruling says as much! We don't have the authority to turn him into a scrap heap."

"But Geordi" Data's mouth is tense. "He is in fact not deemed sentient. My court decision was for me personally. As his brother, it is my responsibility to rid the world of his bad influence. To correct the mistake my father made and stop him from hurting people."

"What...no. Sorry, Data, that's just nonsense." He turns to Picard again. "He IS sentient. I spent four days in his company, I know this for a fact. He likes to think about nano physics, doesn't care for the taste of fish, loves his girlfriend, does funny impressions of humans…He's physically seven months old with a mental age somewhere in the early teens. What you're talking about...it would be an execution."

Picard drums his fingers, not very comfortable with the situation. "Yes, I read in your report that you are of the opinion the Crystalline Entity is that android's girlfriend… Have you considered the possibility it was imitating a human behaviour, saying things it knew you would react to in a positive way?"

"Oh, come on! You could argue that in itself would be a sign of a sentient being! Or, that Data is doing the exactly same thing! Sorry, Data. Or that we are all doing it!" Geordi throws his hands out in exasperation.

His friends are just looking pitifully at him, as if he had a label on his forehead reading "strong case of Stockholm Syndrome".

"Mr. La Forge, that is enough." Picard says. "You must consider that you have been manipulated. It only reinforces my opinion that it is too dangerous to be allowed to continue on in its present form. If the Daystrom institute is not a solution, then dismantling is the only other option."

He pushes the empty, cold mug to the side of his desk.

"Data, La Forge, you have one week. Make sure there are no misadventures. And then Maddox can have what scrap parts he wants after it is done."


	19. The mind catcher

They sit in silence in their quarters, Geordi in front of the computer, his mate on the sofa feeding their baby. Five minutes ago, the big bottle in Data's hand had been full of replicated human breast milk and an assortment of elements, mostly gold, sulphur and potassium, but now only two finger-breaths remain and going fast. It's amazing how the little baby can fit all the milk inside. The diaper rays they've installed in the ceiling must be working overtime to break down all the waste products. Leo might be half-android, but his human half still produces waste just like a normal baby. Thank the gods for diaper rays.

"Geordi.."

"Yes babe?" Geordi awkwardly adds three more words to the message he's writing to his mother. Silvia La Forge is among the select few who know that he has become a dad. In her latest correspondence from that forsaken Romulan outpost she got stationed on, she had inquired worriedly about Data's kidnapping and the transformation from melon to baby. It will take some polishing and re-phrasing of events to prevent his mother from immediately taking leave of her duties as commanding officer of the outpost and coming to visit them, seeing for herself that the recent unpleasant events hasn't compromised her only son. Thus, special care is needed when working out the perfect phrasing of events.

"Geordi…he is not worthy of your commitment."

He sighs and saves his draft to continue later. As he looks up at his mate, mentally preparing himself for a tense moment, a gigantic belching sound breaks the silence.

Leo has just burped like he's never burped before. They both stare in surprise at their golden baby, who continues to feed from the bottle like nothing happened.

They smile at their child, then at each other. He has to laugh. "Wow, that was a big one!"

"It certainly was, Geordi."

"About what you said. I know him better than you. That's a fact, Data. And I have no problem engaging myself in this issue."

"There is something wrong with him, Geordi. I do not believe it can be fixed. Our creator would surely have done so, were it possible." Data pauses to stroke the locks on their son's head as the infant lets go of the rubber teat and smacks his lips contently. "I do not care for a spitting image of me wreaking havoc and spreading misery around him."

Geordi almost says _'I enjoyed his company, actually, there were moments'_ and _'he didn't kill people when I asked him not to'_, and _'can you imagine, I made him cry. Bet that comes as a surprise to you'_, but he doesn't.

"Yeah, well I can't do anything about it now, anyway. We have our orders." He downloads a couple of Leo-pics from his VISOR into the system. These will send his mother reeling with joy, and will most certainly appear all over her office very soon.

When he looks up at his mate and child again, Leo's head has drooped to Data's chest as he had fallen asleep after his meal. Gold-white milk is dripping from his slightly open mouth onto the sleeve of his starry pyjamas.

"Data..." He gestures meaningfully to the corner of his own mouth, then nods at Leo.

"Hmm? Oh. I am sorry if this will disturb you, Leonard. But your daddy has alerted me to the fact that you have milk on you. Let me wipe it off."

He has to laugh at his mate's formal tone. "Data…he is asleep."

"I believe it is beneficial for babies to hear their parents' voices even while they are sleeping, to further establish the bond and create a familiar environment for the slumbering bio-tronic system consisting not only of smells but also of audio input."

Holding a handkerchief carefully between thumb and index finger, the super-strong, 100 kg heavy android proceeds with dabbing up the wetness from Leo's face with gentle, feather-light touches. Geordi smiles at the scene in front of him, but as his smile falters he has to turn away and face the screen again. The milk shimmers like tears on the handkerchief. One week to go.

—

After they have installed a remote function for Lore's off-switch, Data promptly ticks off the first item on their To Do-list. The most pressing issue is done, and Picard will be pleased, not to mention Worf. The Klingon has hovered around the lab all morning, regularly checking in on them to make sure the remote is installed properly, and getting assurances that they now have means of controlling Lore. Geordi assumes it has something to do with the vivid account in his report of how the android, while paralysed from the waist down and blinded, had hunted down and killed two adult Klingons. As Chief of Security, Worf is only making sure.

After they had showed him the installation, and both Geordi and Data had promised that it was fully operational, the burly Klingon still looked suspicious but had eventually boomed, "All right. Good!" and marched away, muttering to himself.

Geordi taps his finger on the PADD. "So, one task down and two to go: check the possibility to hack into his memory storage banks, and harvest what I think is a perfect replica-system of how human nerves work. First I gotta show you this though, now that Worf is gone. I don't want to make him any more nervous than he already is."

Pulling out a drawer full of knick-knacks and random wire-ends and other stuff, Geordi takes out a small tool box.

"I discovered some things earlier when I restored his eye. I decided to have a look in his fingers, considering he's been communicating with his girlfriend that way. And look what I found!"

He opens the box with a ceremonious air, rattling it slightly for effect. The lid opens to ten departments displaying different contents; multi-coloured and incredibly tiny q-bits, wires, rings and almost microscopic metal connectors.

"Lore did some heavy modifications to himself. His fingers were jam-packed with electronics and circuitry! I put the content in order, so this stuff here in the middle was found in his thumbs. They were effectively weapons, capable of firing plasma rays with the power of a disruptor for at least a minute! And the following two digits were some sort of communication devices - this lot is from the finger I saw him talking in by the way - and this is a receiver-transmitter for beam rays. These bits here formed another highly charged phaser... Well, you get the idea."

Data nods thoughtfully. "This was only to be expected. My brother would take any chance to be violent and destructive."

"I basically had to disarm a whole nuclear base before I even took out my welder. I don't know why he didn't just spray the ruffians down on that outpost with lasers…maybe he was trying to show off." Geordi starts to chuckle but stops himself. Something that would have sounded ludicrous last week now makes perfect sense. Of course the android had been showing off. To him.

"Anyway. Now, that's all gone." Geordi mumbles as he shakes off the unpleasant feeling, ignoring the pang of excitement in his belly. "He won't be shooting anyone, or beaming himself away. Let's get on with hacking his memory banks."

"I must warn you, Geordi." Data picks up two of his own maintenance cables and connects them to his brother's head, feeding power into the dormant brain. A green light comes on, indicating the unit is now powered externally. "Lore and I are both fitted with three information storage units. One in the head, and two in the torso. All instances are encrypted with long prime numbers. As you know Geordi, hacking a prime code-generated encryption with the same computer power as it took to create the encryption in question is nearly impossible. It is the very nature of prime numbers that -"

"So it's not likely we'll succeed?"

Data blinks at the interruption, a flash of guilt of being long-winded again quickly travelling over his features. "Hrm. I am afraid it is not very likely, no. I can verify that certain memory clusters exists –" he enters a string of code. Geordi watches in fascination as the screen flickers with gigantic output of data - "but I cannot access them. Father must have designed us this way so our memories and thoughts would be inaccessible to anyone else but ourselves."

"Clever Soong." Geordi sighs and leans into his mate. "He must have had a pass key, though, since he wiped all your memories from before you were found."

Data is silent for a moment. "He must have."

As the screen continues to fill up with long rows of data, the strings take on a different appearance.

"Whoa. Data?"

"This is - something else. I still cannot access it, but it is a large section kept separate from the core unit. I can get the timestamps…"

His fingers move with lightning speed over the screen, causing it to flicker and display another huge chunk of characters and diagrams.

"Look, Geordi: this roughly matches my own timestamps for the information that was downloaded into my storage unit about Omicron Theta. And this - this part is the same, but much larger. 409 sections. Then 13.824 smaller ones, in a receding scale…and then additional groups of a significantly smaller size."

409? Recognition sends a jolt through his mind. The colonists!

His mate's head twitches. "How curious. Geordi, I think these could be data from the colonists of Omicron Theta. And its larger animals. And…judging by the following high number I would assume the insects and plant life too."

Geordi doesn't say anything; he just stares at the body. In off-mode its resting face looks exactly like Data's. _What the hell have you been doing with yourself?_

Data continues, forehead wrinkled in a frown: "This must be what he was referring to when he asked me if I was satisfied with the knowledge and memory of a few hundred human colonists. He mentioned gaining the knowledge of hundreds of millions of life forms of every kind, but he did not elaborate further. But now I see what he meant. The Crystalline Entity must be feeding my brother the data from the minds of the life it eats."

"That is…disturbing." Geordi slowly shakes his head. Despite his disgust for this macabre collection of minds and knowledge from the victims, he is secretly relieved about the number 409. The brothers' parents probably didn't die on the colony, just as he suspected. But all the others… And everything else she has consumed, stored in the body lying on the slab before them. All the pritides..

"And… Data! It means he doesn't have second hand information…he has the real pritide knowledge in here, the actual source."

"You are probably right, Geordi. In here is the exact information we desire."

"Can we do a copy of the data? Even though we can't hack into it now, we might find a way."

"Certainly." Data taps the screen. "I have begun a download of this memory unit. It might take a while."

"Ok, great. Then let's move to number three on the list. It'll take some time to set up anyway. Data, I need to borrow your body for this procedure."

Lore wakes, like he tends to do, in a full panic. As sometimes happens he is restricted and can't flee. He tries anyway, muscles tensing up to lounge his body forward, then squirming like a snake to get out of whatever is holding him down this time.

A hand is on his head, and there's a human voice who is not his father: "Shh, shh, take it easy."

La Forge! His memory returns, slowly. This is how it was: the crash, two Klingons, La Forge, Data, the pritide ship. _And Father is not here._

As ocular input starts to flow through his nets, La Forge's dark, round face comes into focus, filling 34.2% of his field of vision. And lo and behold, what a wide field it is! He has stereo vision again! Someone has fixed his eye. _All the better to see you with, my dear._

"I'm sorry to wake you when you're in this situation." the human says, looking down on him.

"You fucking traitor!" he spits, but no sound comes out. They put his voicebox offline! Trying his bonds again, he hisses as the unyielding metal bands cut into his skin. The human's warm hand moves over his scalp, contrasting the cold restraints around his wrists, ankles, chest and forehead.

La Forge's expression is regretful, a bit nervous. "Easy, there. I need you awake for this procedure. It won't take long, I promise." The human is stroking his hair in a slow, soothing rhythm. Well, fuck him.

He tries to take a look around, but his head is held immobile by the metal band fixed over his forehead. His olfactory registers work just fine however, and this place smells exactly like the room on the Enterprise where he was activated last time.

He can't get visual confirmation of his brother, but his nose has no problem placing the familiar smell of Data in the room. Data and La Forge and no-one else. He could take them both, if he could get out of the restraints. He should be able to. Something is wrong.

There's a plug in his stomach, and one in his throat. He feels tired.

"I have installed two conductors in you." La Forge says, finally ceasing his hair-stroking. "To make you slower and weaker, for your and our security. This -" a finger taps on his stomach. A hard object resonates within him, like a small vampire stake. " - is connected to your power generator and transports about 98,5% of the energy you're producing directly into the Enterprise. You're essentially helping to power the ship right now. And this - " The human taps on another plug just below his larynx, piercing his throat - "delays your brain signals to your body and slows your reaction time. Once again, I'm sorry. But it won't be for long."

He lets his diagnose systems investigate the throat plug as La Forge moves out of his field of vision. What's the tiny human planning to do to him? Whatever it is, he hasn't got any inclination to stick around and find out.

After a painfully slow analysis of the situation, he re-directs 90% of his disposable 1,5% to his belly. Clenching his stomach muscles, he researches the metal object and how it is attached to his generator. A rolling, a tightening, another one… until finally, 1,36 long seconds later, something loosens.

He pushes the object out, relishes in the quick surge of energy as he snaps his restraints, tears away the throat thing, lounges for La Forge -

Another awakening, desperate and panicky. What is this place? He needs to get away, but once again something is holding him in place.

A second later his head clears. La Forge is leaning over him, a bit shaken now, smelling nervous.

"Hey. Welcome back. That was basically my fault. I had this tested on Data but…" he raises his head and looks over his shoulder. "Well Data, it's like you said. Lore is more inventive than you." La Forge smiles and looks down at him again. "This time there shouldn't be any accidents. I turned you down to 0,5% and moved both conductors to your throat and secured them with a steel band." He taps a finger on a metal restriction around his neck. "So you can't push them out. I just need a couple of minutes, so please, just try and relax."

He mouths a string of obscenities, articulating very clearly for La Forge's benefit.

The human sighs nervously and gives a signal with his hand to someone across the room, presumably Data. "Right, let's get on with it."

Someone begins to tap on a PADD in the background. He tries his bonds again as the human put neural sensors on his temples. The new restraints are twice as thick, made of sturdy steel and with only 0,5% of normal capacity he has no chance of breaking them. Redirecting all available power to his right arm doesn't make a lick of a difference.

He notices he hasn't got a shirt on as La Forge pokes one of his ribs, then his nipple. Then his rib again. He squirms and makes a face, searching La Forge with an accusing stare, but the human is busy looking at a screen outside his peripheral vision. He can see its light reflecting in the VISOR.

Something is done to his nipple that sets off strong pain signals. He doesn't acknowledge the discomfort. The human moves a stick-like thing and then his left ear hurts like it was on fire. The VISOR is suddenly lit in green.

"There it is! Look Data!" The human shouts excitedly. "Wow! I got the location coordinates! You can switch him off now."

The world disappears again.


	20. Feelings

"Data! Look! Amazing, isn't it!" On a large monitor the three-dimensional map of a Soong-type brain is lighting up like a festive tree. The neural patterns harvested from Lore's positronic net glitters like tiny supernovas, displaying the billions of combinations that makes up the human sensory system. Geordi watches in fascination as he runs through the mappings for 'left pinkie : nail bed'. So this is what it looks like, feeling.

"It is most interesting, Geordi. I wonder if Lore got this code from out father, or if he acquired it later?"

"Well, now you're getting it anyway. It will be great, Data!" Geordi says, ducking the unspoken question _'why did Father not give it to me?'_.

"You will be able to feel touch, hot, cold… not just register temperature but actually feel it! Imagine what this will do to our, um, bed time." He smiles at the screen, planning out the evening ahead. As soon as the checks are complete and no malware is detected, they'll download this information to Data, and then hang a Do Not Disturb-sign on the door and leave Leo with Troi for a few hours.

Data scans the fast-moving fields of light on the monitor while keeping an eye on the source code rolling past on a smaller screen.

"Hmm, intriguing. The pelvic and crotch area has no sensory stimulation pattern attached."

"What?" He turns to look at the android map, an unlit spot staring back at him. "No…no that can't be!" Data halts the process. Backing the log list a few seconds, his mate looks over the lines of information.

"It is not there."

"That's like the most important.. There must be something wrong, how can he not have installed… installed the, um, most pleasant of…you know." Geordi trails off. "What I'm saying is, he must have that code. I can't imagine why he wouldn't.." _Damn._ Damn and double-damn. He has already drawn up elaborate plans on how to make Data into a begging and quivering puddle of desire, most - if not all - involving his crotch.

"It is not stored in the touch data bank." Data enters a string of characters, scanning the whole data dump. "Ah, here it is. I matched the layout of a similar expression of touch and mapped it on the entire net to find a match. These parts here should respond to what a human male would feel when touched lightly on the frenulum. Lore has the sensations, by they are triggered via his mind only and not by physical stimulation."

"I'm so glad to hear that Data! Ok.. then we just have to log the sensations and connect them to all the right places on you manually. All right. It'll take some time though, I imagine."

"Perhaps half an hour. I have already begun the transfer."

He watches Data's fingers transform into a white blur over the touch pad as the mapping is initiated. "Why do you think Lore would disable his sense of touch like this?"

"I have no idea Geordi. He is malfunctioning. It could be any reason. Perhaps it was not him but our father who did it to make him function better. Perhaps Lore did things with his penis that our father disapproved of."

"But…it still works. I mean…" His cheeks flush as the memories come unbid. "I felt it when he pressed me against the tree."

Data turns to looks at him with a horrified expression: "Once again, I am deeply sorry for what my brother did to you. I can never forgive him."

Sighing, Geordi draws his mate into a hug. "Baby, you had nothing to do with it. I told you. You are not responsible for him." He nuzzles his partner's neck and Data leans his head against his.

"I know that Geordi, baby, but he could have hurt you."

"Yeah, but he didn't. Don't think about it. Come on, let's hurry up with installing the code in you. I can't wait!"

—

"Oh! Geordi!"

"Data?"

"Geordi!"

"Data, are you ok?" There might be reason to be concerned, because this is not how a normal human acts. Geordi removes his hand from Data's belly.

"I was only touching you through the uniform…"

" I felt it Geordi. Please, more." His partner is grinding his butt subtly against the sofa he's sitting on while his fingertips are rubbing against each other. Clearly the newly installed sense-code is having an effect. "Touch me again, Geordi."

He can do that, not a problem. "All right, lean back a bit first. Make yourself comfortable. A bit more. And give me your hand."

As he carefully takes the pale, slender hand in his own, Data is staring at it in wonderment. "I feel."

"Good! Excellent. What if I do this…" he strokes two fingers over Data's palm, then lifts his hand and kisses it gently on the pulse point, letting his lips travel over the golden wrist. "You like that baby?"

The look on his mate's face speaks volumes. He is definitely enjoying himself, eyes half-closed and mouth open in a silent gasp. Geordi notices with some satisfaction that the front of Data's uniform pants have taken on a more voluminous shape.

"I…I like it Geordi. Oh!" The android gasps at the sudden weight and friction as Geordi sits himself down on Data's thighs.

"Now let's see here.." He runs a nail over the back of his mate's hand, scraping the artificial skin. "You want me to continue huh?"

"Yes, oh yes."

Geordi smiles at the flustered android beneath him. Stroking Data's flanks through the uniform proves to be very rewarding, eliciting little gasps and moans. This new code is much more effective than he could imagine, every touch resonating through the android like a tap on a piano key.

The fastening of the uniform pants comes undone with a flick of his finger. "Let me show you." He puts Data's hands on his own hips. "Trust me."

"Okay Geordi." Just the look on his mate's face almost makes him come in his pants; eyes closed, lower lip well-bitten, head thrown back.

—

All the new impressions are running through Data's net in a jumble. He is feeling everything! Not only the pressure from his body on the sofa, but its softness, the coarse material of his socks, and hair tickling - tickling! - the back of his neck,

and Geordi's hands

pulling up his uniform top and exposing a tiny bit of his stomach. His partner is skimming along the hem of his trousers, maddeningly slow, the vibrations of his fingers travelling through the fabric into his receptors.

"Keep your hands on me, Data. You like this?"

He can't think straight anymore, not as long as Geordi is stroking the fastening of his pants like that. Two fingers caresses the undone but still closed fly, sending hot liquid up his spine. The air is cool against the sliver of belly exposed to the world. His mate seems to sense this. A warm, soft hand moves over the slightly chilled skin. Back, and forth. He wants to do something about it, his whole body tense like a bow and tingling with energy, but he obediently keeps his hands on Geordi's hips.

"You'll see how much fun it is to feel like a human, baby. What do you think, should I open this properly?" One hand is hovering over the undone fastening of his pants, almost touching it, the other hand lightly caressing his belly.

"Yes yes, ah, yes!" His words get caught as his pants finally come open by one firm pull. Gods, what is happening? His head is positively buzzing, like when Tasha, like when Lore and the drug, or electro shocks but not quite -

Geordi's hand dips lower, tracing the curve of his belly, over the opened fly -

"Ah! Ah! Geordi! It's.. " - brushing over his confined, erect penis -

"…too much!"

His automatic fail system dutifully logs the last events before the overload shutdown sequence sets in.

—

_Get out, get away._ This time he can move, so he jumps up and takes a leap forward, only to hit a barrier head-first. A transparent wall. A power field.

On the other side of the field La Forge is standing a couple of meters away, holding something in his hand.

Lore quickly takes in his surroundings. The force field makes up an entire forth wall of the cell, from the ceiling to the floor. The other three walls are white, their smooth surface bulging out about one meter above the floor to form bench-like protrusions. There is nothing else in the terrarium-like space. A typical standard holding cell.

As he turns his head, he notices the metal band is still clamped tight around his throat. He's collared, like one of those sad slaves on Last Chance! The two conductors scrape against his ingestion pipe as he claws at the restricting metal band, but of course the collar doesn't budge. His brother has probably tested and re-tested it for his comfort. The fastening is on the back, a bio lock. No points for guessing it will only release for La Forge's DNA.

"Lore. Hello."

The systems responsible for keeping his brain and processors going send out a stream of insufficient power-warnings. His systems were not designed to run on energy levels this low. This is how it must be to have nightmares; trying to run in quicksand when you're fleeing from some horror, not getting anywhere.

"Skinbag. You switched me OFF. You and that imbecile brought me here." At least his voice is back, unaffected. "You TRAITOR!" He puts all energy into the voicebox speaker, belting off the last word at his maximum volume. Satisfaction runs through his system when La Forge crumples up, struggling to cover his ears.

"**IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!**"

It feels good to scream with his true voice, a piercing sound humans find hard to stand. It used to drive his parents crazy. La Forge is on his knees now, trying to replace one of his hands with his shoulder, pressing it against his ear.

As the human manages to get a hand free and hit a button on the device, his screaming stops abruptly. The voice box has gone offline again. Ah, so they put his vocal function on remote too.

La Forge gets up from his kneeling position, a bit ruffled and scared but also gleaming with sick accomplishment. One more tidbit of knowledge about Soong-type androids aquired.

"Gods, I didn't know you could reach that volume! Impressive. I need to get past sick bay to check my ears."

The human straightens his uniform and steps up to the wall. "As you see, you still got the connectors. Just to make absolutely sure you can't break out of the cell. I -"

Lore lounges at the force field. He's slow like a pig in muck but the charge is still effective enough to make the human flinch and take a reflexive step back. The field however doesn't even vibrate, his body hitting the surface with less power than an average human. How pathetically weak! And still he has just consumed all of the current disposable energy. He fights the desire to start panting to cool off his main processor.

"I am gonna kill you." he hisses voicelessly, leaning against the force field while struggling to keep his brain from shutting down and not falling over.

"See, you can't break the field and you can't remove the collar." La Forge goes from scared to elated in a matter of seconds, confident the barrier will protect him. The tiny human looks very pleased with himself as he holds up the remote.

"With this I can adjust the level of energy you're getting, and these are switches for your voice and off/on mode. Now, I need to ask you some things. So I'll turn your voice on again. If you promise not to make that sound. Cause then I have to switch it off again. Okay? Okay."

Lore snorts and looks away as his voice system comes back online. Well, he only has himself to blame for this situation. Or more accurately, the hard coded desire to approach and interact with humans that his father installed. It's easy enough to override, but he must have slipped when he made the catastrophical decision to let Data's human come along on the rescue mission.

But wait, La Forge is not just 'Data's human' anymore. The real reason they ever got a chance to capture him had been Data's round belly. The small fat thing is the parent of his nephew! Somehow, La Forge has managed to soil their workings with bio matter. Because that what was in there, wasn't it? A half-breed. Data's superior mind and body, tainted with human flesh.

If it hadn't been in his brother's belly, he wouldn't be here right now.

"You need to ask me some things. You really think I will answer them? How naive. Why don't you just switch me off and be done with it?"

As the human opens his mouth to reply, a sour thought surfaces in his head. _Oh, of course._ It's always the same thing. A quick check confirms what he feared: his weapons and communicators are gone. Taken away to pass on to the younger brother!

"You want all of my assets for Data, right? You want to improve on him." He has to make an effort to avoid shouting at the despicable pile of meat, his frontal cortex washed over with hate. "You already gave him the skin feeling. That's why I was in the lab! You've taken my good parts to complete him!" He is not panting, damnit, he's not going to even though his heated systems are making up a whole choir of warning signals.

He has been switched on again and placed in a cell, why? What else for Data's benefit? What else for the offspring?

A troubled frown flashes over the meatbag's ugly features, the skin covering his frontal bone creasing in little ripples above his viewing aid.

"It wouldn't be the right thing to do, keeping you switched off." the bag stammers. "And, also, Starfleet is worried about the pritide multi-weapon. You told me a bit about it when we were preparing to go in and get Data. We would like to get more information. Could you describe in detail how the pritide weapon works, please?"

Ah, so he isn't kept activated for Data's benefit then. He checks his logs. Someone's been trying to hack into his memory banks, probably hawking after the pritide knowledge.

"You really think I'd help Starfleet? I'm not going to be your fucking sock-puppet. I know you're longing to put your fist up my ass but that's not gonna happen."

The human flinches, radiating a wave of surface heat. If he were pale like Often-Wrong or Juliana, La Forge would be beet red by now. "I…no, stop it. We just need to know about the pritide weapon."

"Isn't it true, android-fucker, that as soon as I tell you, I'll be switched off and put on a shelf again? Wouldn't it be in my best interest not to tell you?"

Sending La Forge down here to ASK him? Of course this can't be it. There must be some other devilry going on.

As La Forge tries to think of something assertive and honourable to say, Lore diverts all power to his short-wave receptors scanners. There are readers nearby…four of them. On the ceiling. Ah, mind reading of the prisoner's brain waves! How quaint. They must be hoping he'll think about something pritide-related so they can copy the access pattern used to open the memory. Surely they performed this on other prisoners, and tested it on Data. But Data's a retard and while he himself might be substandard when it comes to hardware he still got his wits about him. Let them try all they like.

The human looks like he's had enough. "I'm gonna leave now. We'll give you some time to think about the pritide weapon, okay?"

He snorts. _Do mention the weapon again La Forge, mention it a lot like you were instructed before you came in here._ _Then maybe the desired memory will open up like a flower for your leisure. Then again, maybe not._

As La Forge turns to leave, he taps the smooth metal surface of the collar. "Hey, human. You should have sold me back at the outpost. You would have gotten a good price."

Lore notices with some satisfaction how the bag's face scrunches up in pain and disgust before he exits the holding area.

—

The little android gleefully throws his bowl with baby supplement number 351: mashed banana and mango, on the floor.

"GAH!"

"Oh no you little rascal." Geordi leaves his working terminal and goes to get a matter remover. "I thought you got the hang of the spoon now."

Following their child's development is a delight every day. Being half-android, Leo is growing twice as fast as a normal human. Since Data took about five seconds to mature after activation, and Geordi took 18 years, so to speak, Leo is destined to hit adulthood at the median human/android age of nine years. As a four week old baby the accelerated speed is not really noticeable, except for the fact he has already learned to operate something as complex as a spoon.

Or at least he knew how to five minutes ago. Geordi picks up the bowl from the floor.

"You need to eat all you fruit mash if you want to be a strong android."

"Gbbbfffft." Leo looks expectantly at him.

Geordi scoops up a bit of mash that by some good fortune stayed at the bottom of the bowl. "Here you go. Mmmmm. Yes, what does that taste like? It tastes like mango. Maaangooo."

There's mash all over Leo's round face, and a bit in his hair too, and a lot on the floor still, but Geordi decides to view the modest amount of food that has found its way into the baby as a promising start. Leo is, for the moment, obediently eating all the mash he's presented with. Geordi successfully feeds him spoon after spoon. It was just an attention thing probably. Perhaps Leo thinks Geordi is working too much.

"You think I'm working too much?"

The baby smacks contently around the spoon and slams a hand into a puddle of fruit juice. No, he's not working too much. Really, he hasn't gotten enough done lately with Lore and Data and Leo occupying his mind. Speaking of that, he should call Picard. Get some work done.

He hits his com bagde. "La Forge to Picard." Leo looks at him with wide yellow eyes and then breaks up in laughter. Geordi smiles at the giggling baby. "What's so funny? Daddy calling Picard?"

Leo waves his arms excitedly, signalling to Geordi to amuse him again.

He scoops up more mango-banana with the spoon and gets the baby to swallow all of it on the first attempt, scraping escaped fruit-pulp from Leo's chin and cheeks. Picard is not responding.

"All right little guy." He taps the badge again. "La Forge to..".

Leo erupts in giggles.

"Oh, it's the com badge?" Another tap, making the bird-like chirp sound out again. The baby almost falls out of his chair with mirth.

"Yeah, daddy can make sounds." More taps, and more chirps.

"Ooogah a-aa aahhaa!" Two chubby hands reach for the badge.

"No you can't play with it. This is serious stuff. You have to wait until you're way older, eight-nine years or so. And then you have to spend a whole two years at the academy." Or however long it'll take this little budding genius to finish all the classes.

His badge beeps and the Captain's voice booms out. "Picard to La Forge". Leo suddenly looks apprehensive, no doubt recognising the Captain's voice as belonging to Scary Mr Shiny Head.

"La Forge here. Sir, I was hailing you because…we need to discuss on how to proceed. In two days the week will be up. Can I book a meeting with you?"

He can hear Picard exhale with displeasure at the other end. "I am very busy these days La Forge. If there is anything left to discuss regarding this matter, we can surely do it over comm?"

"Well.." He walks hastily into the bathroom, closing the door so Leo won't hear. Perfect memory and all that. They need to keep him in the dark for now about his wayward uncle.

"Sir, he has noticed I'm attempting to scan his brain patterns and has prevented my efforts to reach the stored memories.." He doesn't mention that most of the patterns appearing on his screen lately takes the form or erect penises, like big Fuck You-signs delivered from the cell as personal messages for Geordi La Forge. It must be quite a feat, even for a Soong-type, to shape one's electromagnetic brain waves into phalluses.

"I haven't found a loophole to get to the minds of the pritides yet, but if I get another week…"

"There is no other week. Surely you could download the information to another unit and continue your attempts to access it without the original carrier being around?"

Ah, and there's that option. He sighs. "Yes…in fact I have already made a copy."

"Good." Picard says. "Over and out."

When he exits the bathroom, his child looks at him with round, yellow eyes.


	21. The Birthday Party

Chapter Text

"Lal thought highly of Counsellor Troi and Commander Riker." Data says, out of the blue, as they are walking through the science lab. "I am most pleased that they accepted the roles of extra parents for Leonard, so that we may continue to have them in our family."

"Yeah. You wanna keep people like them around, in some way."

It's the problem with Starfleet, Geordi thinks. The special persons that you've grown close to, the ones you regard as your extended family, move ship or get in harm's way. And you never see them again.

He takes Data's hand, just because he can. His mate glances down to get a visual confirmation on what has occurred and gives Geordi a faint smile.

"I imagine Lal and Riker could have 'found each other' eventually. She approved of his presence. And I think with her charms, there was a possibility Riker might have found the idea appealing too. Once he got over the initial shock of their first encounter."

Geordi suppresses a giggle. Data is after all perfectly serious. "No question about it, baby. They would've been a great match."

If Lal had polished off some of the sharp android edges, and Riker had been more inclined towards monogamy. If Lal were still alive.

"I have to correct myself." Data says. "I used past tense just now. The truth is, she approves of Commander Riker in the present. I know you are sad for her, Geordi, but you do not have to be. Lal is in my head. As you know I have incorporated her programs into mine, and I have transferred her memories to me. So one could say she is still around."

His boyfriend's eyes are glassy, mouth turned up in an imitation of a smile. "But I admit it is not exactly the same thing."

Shaking his head, no it's not the same thing, Geordi thinks this might be the biggest difference between him and the androids. One hanging on to the mind of his lost child by incorporation, the other storing millions and millions of former life in a designated partition. It's rather creepy.

Still, if he could save a loved one in this fashion he'd go for it himself. If he could, and didn't go crazy in the process. He glances at his mate who walks briskly at his side, carefree and alert once again. Not crazy yet. But sometime in the future, he shall suggest that Lal could be stored on a separate unit instead.

—

There's always someone's birthday it seems. Ten Forward is teeming with music, drinks and garlands. They both went this time, the baby placed in Troi's care for the evening. Any excuse to see Data discover new things in social settings is good enough for Geordi. His mate is already absorbing the interactions going on all around him with an open, curious expression.

It's Grissne Or from Medicine who's celebrating her birthday. Geordi glances worriedly in the direction of the kitchen. Unfortunately for the lion's part of the crew, Grissne is an Eetrie, and a homesick one at that. The buffet menu will surely be taken straight from her culture. A traditional Eetrie feast usually leaves everyone irritated and hungry, and leaves the humans wishing for something solid with melted cheese on top. Even the best, most inventive Eetr chefs can't find a way with Starfleet's replicators if their furry heads depended on it.

But it's a more international and appealing menu than he originally feared. As the plates are being carried out Geordi's mood is getting brighter. Fat and butter-smooth ox pellets with avocado crystals, grilled chicken, rosy Upen beets strewn with granulated sugar, big juicy bodons, and fruits and cakes with unfamiliar but alluring shapes and colours. This evening might turn out all right after all.

Having downed two full plates (his own and Data's, who filled a plate just because he wanted to), accompanied with generous helping of squich, tiredness is starting to creep up on him. Data has been working two night shifts in a row, and it has taken its toll on his hours of sleep. That phrase 'sleeping like a baby' makes even less sense now. He heard it used in Engineering the other day and just wanted to walk up to the person and scream for five hours in their ear.

A voice somewhere in the crowd says his name. He looks up. A group of young men catches his attention as they stare at him, but trying not to stare. It's the same group he overheard by the drink buffet at the previous event, the ones who joked about how he was fucking a hard-drive. Glaring at them, he notices that this time there is not a trace of mockery in their faces. They quickly scatter under his gaze, awestruck and respectful. He can hear disparate words drifting over the din: "..caught Lore." "..the brother of.." "…by himself." Well, seems like the story is making its rounds among the crew. Maybe they have even read his report. He smirks to himself and scrapes up the last of the pudding.

On his left, with an empty and symbolic plate in front of him, his boyfriend is making small talk with two young trainees from Med bay. Data is not noticing how they are studying his jaw movements with rapt fascination, looking more at his throat and the faint outline of his voicebox than listening to what he's talking about. Or maybe he does notice.

"It is a fact" his mate says, "that on a space ship you cannot really discuss the weather. Because we have an absence thereof indoors. It would be pointless to call out: _'my, the weather is unsettled today.'_ Ha-ha-ha."

The trainees jolt to attention by the unexpected sound. Baffled, they stare at Data. Then they join in with their human laughs. He can tell they are already charmed.

"It was a real pleasure meeting you Lieutenant Commander." one of them says, squeezing Data's hand. Then, as an afterthought: "Oh, and you too of course, Mr La Forge."

"Yes, a pleasure!" the other chimes in, only looking at Data. "I hope we shall run in to each other again Mr Data, in some fashion. Have a nice night!"

"You charmer!" Geordi hits a hard android shoulder as the trainees disappear into the crowd. "Handsome, good at conversation, intelligent…did I mention handsome? Remind me to lock you up when we get back to our quarters!"

Data looks confused. "Locking me up would prevent me from doing my duties, Geordi, so it would not be acceptable. Except if it was temporary and in a bedroom setting. Besides, I thank you but I think you are slightly exaggerating my qualities because you hold me in high esteem due to your personal attachment to me. A more objectiv-mmmmph!"

Another social adaption, Geordi muses as Data's cheeks inflate slightly under his palm. Technically his hand is only muffling a speaker outlet. If Data wanted he could just raise the volume of his voicebox and be heard through Geordi's hand. But he plays along, having grown quiet and looking guilty for babbling again. Geordi does the only thing he can think of in a situation like this; he removes his hand and replaces it with his lips.

It gets more intense as his mate moans and sighs at the same time, sounding like a chaste-ish kiss in a crowded Ten Forward smelling of Upen beets and warm, sweaty uniforms is the most arousing thing in the world. Geordi presses closer as Data's mouth opens, accepting and eager.

A gruff voice growls close by, demanding their attention. Detaching himself, Geordi makes sure he is presentable and no unseemly saliva string is hanging anywhere before turning around.

"Good evening Worf." Data says, having reverted to unaffected in something like 0.0021 seconds.

It is indeed Worf, who is so used to seeing them making out by now he doesn't even bother to look affronted. "Greetings. This may not be the time. But I thought you should know. I shall sit."

The Klingon takes the chair on Geordi's right side, but halts as he sees it is covered in confetti and glitter. The former occupant of the chair, Beverly, tried to throw the stuff on a colleague but ended up getting most of it on herself. Worf frowns and selects another chair. Surely he would not live through getting as much as a tiny little spark on himself.

Having found a safe chair and taken his place, Worf resolutely puts his half-full glass of bloodwine down on a free spot on the table. "As I was saying, this might not be the time. But the sooner the better." He leans forward and rumbles in an uncharacteristically low voice: "This morning I informed the prisoner he will be terminated tomorrow."

Tomorrow? It's like something sinks in him, a hollow opening up in his belly. Isn't it tomorrow already? He glances at his info screen. The stardate has just moved one digit forward.

The big Klingon looks at them. Geordi studies the blood-black wine in Worf's glass, happiness and horniness both gone in an instant. He doesn't know what to say. Maybe Data should say something. It's his bloody brother.

"It was the honourable thing to do." Worf says.

"I suppose. Thanks Worf. Tomorrow it is.. or more like later today." He looks up from the glass at his boyfriend.

Data is staring through the Klingon, a thousand yard stare. "Very well, Mr Worf. Thank you for the information."

Geordi watches the big Klingon get up and head for the buffet, thankful that at least Worf used words like 'he' and 'the prisoner' instead of 'it'. And it was good he had informed Lore about what what going to happen. Respectful, in some twisted way.

He should perhaps have done it. Gone down there and asked some more about the weapon, trying to get a reading on the brain scan. And if no clues were forthcoming, casually mention that they had the data on another carrier, and that time was up, over, done for the android. See what reaction it would spark. Maybe Lore would want to spill all his secrets, giving up the story of his life now when it was coming to an end? Geordi would have been an apt listener. If Lore had wanted to talk.

No. He feels like a coward, but he just can't face the android anymore. The guilt is weighing. If he hadn't shut him off, brought him here.. but then again, how many lives will be spared with Lore's death? In the grand scheme of things he has done good.

—

He waits until Data is busy in conversation with the two Crushers ( -'Have you noticed there is no weather in space?' - 'oh come off it Data!') until he approaches Worf. The big Klingon has perched himself and his glass on the most isolated barstool available, nursing his drink and glaring at people.

"Worf. Um… about that.. did he say anything when you told him? What did he do?"

"Well -" Worf looks uncertainly at his hand holding the glass, then out in the room, as if Picard would magically materialize and give advice on whether Worf should feed La Forge's strange interest in the prisoner, or report the incident to high command.

"Please. Just tell me."

"All right." Worf growls, relenting. "He tried to trick me into entering the cell, goading and insulting me. I would not have it. It would not be honourable to beat a foe weakened like that." The Klingon blinks, his hand holding the bloodwine-glass trembling ever so slightly. "He threatened to destroy the cell, and to kill me in many different ways. He suggested a deal. We get the information and we let him go. I said we do not do deals."

"That's right." Geordi sighs. "At least not that kind of deals."

"No. Not that kind of deals. I left and returned some hours later to check that no destruction had occurred. It hadn't. He then suggested we get the information if he would get to live. I gave the same reply as earlier. Then I left. I haven't been back."

He can't ask, really, but he has to know. "Did he mention me at all?"

Worf glares suspiciously at him, but then Worf always glares, doesn't he, but maybe he's glaring more than usual?

"Well. Maybe." The Klingon growls, still not finding Picard in the crowd.

"Worf, I need to know. It could help me break the memory bank and get the information about the weapon."

It's a good thing Worf is such a push-over, really. "Like I said, he tried to make deals. Three times. The third suggestion was more… personal."

Geordi digs his nails into his palm. What now? "Oh? He wants to have my head on a plate?"

"He said he will tell us all about the weapon…" The Klingon suppresses a growl "…if he was allowed to hold your baby boy."

_Oh, the bastard._ "No! Never!"

"Of course not! Out of the question!" Worf bares his teeth in a snarl. "I asked the villain how he knew about your offspring, but he just laughed and turned his back! Then I left."

"I certainly didn't tell him. Lore saw the melon attached to Data just before I switched him off. He must have…smelled it and drawn the correct conclusion."

Why did he ask, gods, he just feels worse now. "Thank you Worf. I need to go and…run some code."

"Did this information help?" Worf gives him an inscrutable look.

_No._ "I don't know. Maybe."

—

His mate has moved on to a woman from accounts who is looking like she can barely restrain herself from pinching his cheek and feed him cookies.

"…no weather? Ha-ha-"

"Pardon Ma'am, I need to borrow Data's ear for a second. Babe, I'm gonna go pick up my nephew and go back to our quarters. You stay and enjoy yourself."

"Is there something amiss Geordi?" Data attaches himself immediately to his arm. "You are not feeling unwell I hope?"

"Nah, I'm just tired, that's all."

"Well, I shall follow you and assist with your nephew so you may sleep properly."

He crooks his arm in Data's, secretly thankful that they're going back to their quarters together. Sleep, oh to sleep, perchance to dream! His bed is beckoning.

"By the way babycakes, that thing about 'no weather in space' isn't really funny."

"Oh? But…they were laughing. And they were not laughing AT me, but WITH me. I ran the checks we programmed together to analyse situations like that, and there was no indication they were malicious."

"They were laughing because you looked so sweet when you were talking. Sorry darling, it wasn't your witty cocktail conversation this time."

"Well." Data looks a little crestfallen, but quickly perks up again. "I shall have to practise some more on my humorous observations."


	22. Chapter 22

"Look at you, little nugget!" Riker says, holding Leonard under a table lamp and angling him like he was precious gem. "A regular lump of gold, eh? I didn't know you are walking around with the real thing in your skin, Data. Back when gold was valuable, you would have been a real treasure."

"Yes, I suppose on Earth, once, I would have been." Data says absent-mindedly, typing away at his work-PADD.

The problem with his brother's brain is that it is very securely encrypted. It runs the same system as Data himself utilises, plus another intricate layer of code that, if Data were human, would give him a headache. So far there is no progress. He would like to present a result to Geordi tonight. Racking his brain for the next step, he experiences gratefulness towards Riker who has decided to spend his evening in their quarters, keeping Leonard pleasantly distracted with fun and games.

A loud shriek of joy is heard, and Data snaps out of his cloud of concentration. Riker is raising Leonard up over his head and towards the ceiling.

"Whoa, your metal-laced diet makes you heavy, little guy. Whooo! Lift goes UP!"

Data peers over his work screen as his giggling son is dipped, and raised up again. Is it good for babies to be handled like that? His reference catalogue does not give a clear answer.

"Lift goes up to: NINTH FLOOR! Science quarters!" Riker booms. "Lift goes up to: TENTH FLOOR! Command bay!"

Data's head twitches again, and again, as Leo's nappy-clad behind touches the ceiling. Riker's arms are very long. Maybe he should point out to the commander that babies are not only vulnerable to hard floors (as he already informed him mere minutes ago) but also to hard ceilings?

Riker casts a glance at him between his third and fourth head-twitch. The commander smiles, winks and gives a reassuring nod. Data's head stops twitching. Riker seems to know what he is doing, judging by his deceptively daring yet sure handling of the infant. And Leonard does seem to be enjoying himself, shrieking and kicking his legs with excitement.

Data presses his lips together. He is most likely 'fussing' again, something Geordi has told him repeatedly to stop doing. He decides to take a small break from his work and instead watch the tall human play with the tiny hum-droid baby.

It is evident that Leo is studying Riker's face, no doubt committing new information about him to memory. The nest of clothes Data made has given his and Geordi's child a head start in life. He already knows who his immediate family is, and he won't ever forget.

Geordi has expressed trepidation of raising a child that remembers everything. He had even wanted to add a function that would deteriorate Leonard's memory banks over time, mimicking a human brain. But Data had been adamant; he cannot imagine it being any other way. What would it be like to spontaneously forget? In this aspect Leo is Data's child, as much as he is Geordi's in other ways. For example, Leonard does not come with an off-switch.

He experiences something akin to relief when Riker starts complaining about his stiff neck and puts the protesting baby back into the play pen.

—

"I have a result." Data says, later, as Geordi chews the last bite of his_ lobster au gratin_ dinner. His mate has been at it the whole day, trying to break into Lore's brain. Geordi has spent his work hours keeping his fingers mentally crossed. If he's honest, it has not so much to do with the information about the pritide weapon as the prospect of being able to dig into Lore's head and see what memories are stored there. To learn more about Dr Soong's work with his androids and about Data's childhood. What is Lore's first memory of Data? What was Data like before Dr Soong decided to go all _tabula rasa_ on him?

If Geordi's perfectly honest, he is deadly, jaw-achingly curious.

"You have a result?" he dumbly apes, dropping his fork with a clatter. "That's great! What is it?"

"It is not so much what it is, as how I accessed it. I shall show you." Data pulls up a screen from the table surface and enters a couple of commands. "The actual data is not of interest, but perhaps it can lead to more. I discovered that there is one memory Lore keeps accessing. He has replayed it eight times during his stay in our cell. Following the trace from the mind-readers in the cell block, I managed to break through the encryption for that particular area. It was easier than I expected it to be."

"Oh? Geordi scoots closer, trying not to show too much excitement. Something Lore has been replaying in his head over and over again? It must be something important to the android. "The weapon?"

He really wants it to be the solution to the pritide weapon problem, but only half as much as he wants it to be about Lore, or Data, or - oh gods - about himself.

"Unfortunately, it is not about the weapon. It hails from further back. A whole 28 years in fact. So it is not of interest for us. However, I think the nature of the encryption algorithm can be of use to break through to the other memories and thus to the pritide minds. Here, this is the string I used to - "

"Okay, that's great." Geordi interrupts, not wanting to let this new information slide. "What about the memory he keeps accessing, what is it? Can you see what it is?"

Data gives him a funny look. "It is not relevant, Geordi. As I said, it hails back 28 years."

"Well…still.." He makes a gesture in the air, trying to convey something like 'you know, the more information the better' and 'go on, please', but in a relaxed and not too eager way.

"If you wish. I can run it through my cortex. One moment."

Geordi feels vaguely guilty. He knows his boyfriend is indulging him, dwelling on this unimportant thing, but deciding not to make a fuzz over it out of respect for his human feelings.

Picking up the cable they normally use for brain maintenance, Data types on the console with a stiff arm and his head at an angle telling the world he is not very comfortable at the moment.

Well of course he's not comfortable. A memory from 28 years ago. Maybe Data saw himself feature in it. Or…maybe Data haven't even looked at it yet, deeming it uninteresting or too potentially upsetting from the start. If Lore keeps replaying it, it probably is something horrible and angsty. The colonists dying? Data's memory being wiped?

If he told Data to stop now he would. But then Geordi might never know what the memory is.

As feelings of being nailed to a fence washes over him, Data clicks the cable in place and closes his eyes.

"Accessing memory: left central cortex 23:462,783,252-961."

Well, too late now. He's just gotta ride with it. Whatever it is. He inches closer to the cable, ready to pull it if needed.

A look of serenity spreads over Data's features as his posture slumps into something softer, more human.

"I am indoors, sitting on a sofa, in front of a fireplace. The room is dark, lit by the fire. It smells of firewood and old textiles. Murky. There are a rug on the floor strewn with flat pillows. I am warm from the fire. It crackles. Outside the wind is blowing and it is raining."

"Wow. Incredible! This is not you then? I mean, it's Lore, right?" Geordi is leaning forward with excitement, cable forgotten.

"Yes this is my brother." Data says, eyes still closed. "It is his memory."

"Okay, what else? Are you..I mean, is Lore alone in the room?"

"I am not alone. Next to me sits an adult human female, small, light-skinned, dark eyes, dark long hair in a pony tail. Her smell and voice are very comforting and familiar to me. She is telling me a story as I lean into her shoulder. I know the story already, I know all the stories, but I do not know it as told through the words she is choosing at this very moment, so I listen with rapt attention. She has given me a carbon-based food item which I nibble slowly. I do not care for it but she has given it to me and so I eat it. A crumble lands on my hand and I do not know yet what to do with crumbs. I look at it. She laughs at my expression, her laugh-lines showing. She puts one arm around me."

Data blinks and straightens. "That is the end of the memory."

"This is what he keeps repeating? Data, the woman…could that be your mother?"

"I do not know Geordi. I did not recognize her." Data's brows are knitted in thought, then he shakes his head as if to get rid of the image. "She looked just like any human female."

—

The next day, when they meet up for Geordi's lunch, Data mentions he will go straight down to the cell blocks after his day shift ends. To get it over with and begin the dismantling process.

As the ship's time crawls closer to evening and Geordi's own shift has finished, he tries to distract himself with cleaning their quarters, re-potting Data's plant, sorting Leo's toys, feeding Leo. Anything to keep his mind away from the prison block.

He is vaguely disappointed Lore hasn't asked for him, though he knows fully well the android would never ask for anyone. Especially not the man who will soon be the indirect cause of his death.

"Daah-gaah." Leo is eating puréed carrots. The infant is handling the spoon like a veteran this time, and he's seemingly very pleased with his progress.

Come to think of it, it's not true Lore wouldn't ask for anyone. He did ask for Leo. Just like that, just to show them he knows. The bastard.

Geordi angles the bowl to help his son get the bits that have stuck on its walls.

Maybe Lore wanted to dish out some last minute avuncular advice, twist Leo's mind the same way as his own had. Tell him: _What they are doing to me now, they will do to you too, sooner or later._

A crash and a wail breaks his thoughts. The bowl is on the floor again and a lot of the purée has somehow ended up in Leo's face.

Geordi picks up the unhappy baby and goes to fetch a rag. A fleeting odour tickles his nostrils. They need to find time to fix those damn diaper rays soon. This nappy changing is something he could really do without.

As he dives one-handed into the diaper bag, a sticky baby wailing in his ear, the nagging voice returns. When Leo finds out about his uncle, because he surely will, one way or another, he hope he won't get the questions. Those he'll leave to Data to explain, because he sure can't.

Leo gurgles happily as he is laid down on the changing table, mood instantly brighter at the prospect of a new nappy and a chance to play with the stuffed Horta that dangles from the ceiling.

—

When the prisoner sees him enter the holding area, he slowly and unsteadily approaches the force field wall. Data regards him calmly. He does not think he resembles this being in the least.

"So, brother, it's time. You're gonna switch me off." The prisoner says, a sarcastic smile on his face. "We're family, doesn't that account for anything? Guess not, huh? It never did."

"Lore, I am going to deactivate you now." He does not feel anything.

"So, this is it, is it? Aren't you gonna ask me if I have any last words? A soliloquy about moments being lost like tears in rain?"

Data doesn't reply. He takes the remote from his belt, aims it at the occupant in the cell.

"I love you, brother." The prisoner says hastily. "If he had let you keep your memories, you would know that I do."

_I am pleased that I do not have them._ "Good-bye, Lore"

Without another thought, he hits the off-switch.


End file.
